A Fallen God
by Hostiel
Summary: When Loki fell from the Bifrost he was expecting the cool embrace of oblivion, not to become a spirit and then be ripped apart and forced into the mind of a six-year-old named Harry Potter. With no physical form, he must keep the boy alive if he seeks to keep existing, and everyone knows that the best way to ensure continued survival is to simply become greater than everyone else.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Loki released his grip and let himself fall. Thor's screams of anguish rang in his ears, yet Odin's silence was somehow ten times more deafening. As he turned towards the blue vortex below him, he felt his eyes began to water.

That was only because the light was too bright, of course. Not because of the fact that this was the end for him. It also wasn't because of Odin's disappointment. No, he cared about Odin as much as Odin cared about him: not at all. Or a bit less than that, perhaps.

He wasn't exactly sure how it was possible to care for someone less than not at all, but he was good at beating impossible odds. Except when he wasn't. Like now, for example, as he found himself failing in his plan to destroy Jotunheim. Then again, those odds hadn't exactly been impossible.

The chance of surviving this, however, was impossibly low. Logic dictated that Loki would, therefore, survive.

Loki smiled as the swirling abyss of oblivion enveloped him.

* * *

If he had been conscious, Loki would have been screaming—if the pain hadn't already torn his mind apart, that was. In fact, more than that was happening now. Splinters of his very being were lashed off by the power assaulting him. Each shard of Loki was sent in a different direction, and subsequently destroyed by corporeal and spiritual energies alike.

All but one.

A fragment of Loki, slightly bigger than the rest managed to cling to its former body until the very last moment. Any physical part of it was destroyed as it re-entered the universe, but the spirit–the _soul,_ the tiny piece of one, at least–remained. The energies of the broken Bifrost picked it up like a tornado and sent it spinning through space and time, and in a matter of massive coincidence, it happened to land on Midgard.

The fragment was a being of animalistic instinct, and all animals desired to eat. This entity needed to feed upon magic–not much, but it would need to latch itself to a source. In its extremely weak state, the source would need to be vulnerable. It scanned across the Earth, omnipresent and yet without form, looking for something to consume.

And there it was. A being much like it. An entity that was less than a hundredth of a human's soul that had connected itself to a host in an attempt at survival. Unfortunately for the said piece of human soul, a hundredth of an Asgardian soul was far more powerful than even a whole human soul—and it most certainly was not a full human skull.

Whilst the fragment of Loki was far too small to measure, it had little trouble ripping the despicable creature into shreds and banishing it from its host's mind so that he could replace it.

If the six-year-old Harry Potter had been awake, he would have seen a cloud of writhing blackness burst from his scar, letting out an eldritch screech before a bright white light consumed it and forced its own way in. In fact, he did awake at this point, but by this time the light show had vanished.

With a small frown, he attributed the light he had seen to his imagination–there were no windows in his cupboard, after all–and went back to sleep.

* * *

For what seemed like an eternity to him, Loki could do naught but observe and think. Thinking. He had certainly been doing a lot of that. The first matter he had decided to contemplate was the simple subject of whether or not he was actually Loki. He had retained partial memory of his time as an untethered spirit, his supernatural intelligence the only thing that stopped his mind from being driven insane as he perceived the concept of nigh-on omnipresence.

He knew that he had been a part of Loki, and that with the fact that the "real" Loki was most likely dead, he decided that he was now Loki–even if he didn't have a physical form and was confined to the mind of a child. How he had fallen.

Whilst he had never paid much attention to the affairs of the great majority of mortal kind, he had occasionally interfered with wizards, spreading chaos among them and teaching them spells that would further their strife between themselves. He happened to now inhabit the mind of one of them, and an apparently powerful one if his estimations were correct. Well, not powerful _now_ seeing as though he was a six-year-old, but he would be when he was an adult—if he managed to make it to adulthood.

Loki would have been happier with the power levels of his host if not for the fact he couldn't figure out how to take over the boy's mind. For mortal months he had recharged his strength, leeching off the boy's soul until he was once again full. By all logic, he should have been able to dominate the child's mind with the slightest effort. Unfortunately, logic had abandoned him.

He supposed the reason he was not able to was that he was essentially composed of the boy's magic, having fed off of it to reconstruct his mind. Being a master of magic, Loki of all people knew that some types of magic refused to strike against itself. It was just his luck that he managed to come up against it in this child.

For what must've been the hundredth time, Loki found himself wishing that he had ended up in the mind of an adult. For one, they would be a lot more powerful. There was also that Loki was not exactly a patient god, and although he had fathered–and _mothered_ –children of his own, he did not think he had the kindness to cooperate with a child's immaturity.

He sighed. Yes, an adult would be much easier to cooperate with. As evidenced by the fact that Loki had been a mother, he was not adverse to changing forms to obtain his goals—well, he hadn't been back then when he hadn't known how badly it would damage his mind—and an adult or a hormonal teenager was considerably easier to seduce.

What would lure a bloody _six-year-old_ into doing his bidding?! _Candy?!_ Loki himself had not been a child for centuries upon centuries, so he didn't have much recollection of his own childhood other than sadness at never being good enough to make his father proud.

On that note, he had noticed that there were many similarities between him and the boy, Harry, whose name he had only learnt when the boy's guardians had finally decided to call him something over than "boy."

They were both orphans, though the circumstances were slightly different, Loki having killed his biological father whilst Harry's had been murdered, or at least that's what he assumed from the flashes of green light that plagued the boy's dreams. Those flashes were easily recognisable as those of the Killing Curse, which Loki was quite impressed the humans had managed to learn.

Perhaps not _all_ humans were hairless apes, just the vast majority.

They had also both been adopted by people who cared more for their other child, though the Dursleys were _slightly_ more blatant in showing this, what with their locking in a cupboard, rather than just disapprovingly glaring at him with one eye.

Both of them were outcasts.

All of these combined with their slightly similar appearance would probably make it easier for Loki to manipulate Harry into seeing him as a father or elder brother figure.

If he had been in his physical form, Loki would have frowned. What exactly was his objective anyway? To return to Asgard? World domination? To _rule_ Asgard? Universal domination?

For now, he would just have to wait for the boy to grow more powerful, an easier task than he had first expected. Loki could already feel his soul having an _extremely_ _slight_ impact upon the boy, his personality and physiology alike. He supposed that one day, with a bit of influence from him, Harry would be completely Asgardian, or–gods forbid–Jotun instead of human. This was if Loki's soul continued to change and warp him for years, and Loki hoped it would have a similar effect upon his personality. It wouldn't do to share a body with someone squeamish about killing.

He supposed he would have to start changing the boy at an early age, just as soon as he had enough power to actually _talk_ to him _._

* * *

Harry let out a growl of annoyance as a yell filtered through his cupboard door, awakening him from a sleep for once uninterrupted by nightmares. Nevertheless, he still opened the door of his cupboard and moved towards the kitchen, preparing to cook breakfast for his _relatives._

He despised them, but what else could he really do? From what they had told him, this was better than an orphanage, but then again, they could be lying. Still, he was fairly sure that if anyone found him they would just call the police and send him back here. That would only make Vernon even more angry than usual, and that was not a situation Harry wanted to be in.

School was the only way to get away from Vernon and Petunia, and even there they would know everything he did, and Dudley made sure to always impart their wrath upon him for when they couldn't. Finishing his breakfast, Harry sighed as he made his way towards the garden, preparing to begin a weekend of chores.

"I guess I'll be here forever," he murmured as he exited the backdoor.

"Or perhaps not, Harry," an unfamiliar voice said in response and he shot around, looking for the source.

He was greeted by the sight of a tall, slim, and undeniably handsome man with black hair and green eyes slightly similar to his own. What drew his attention, however, was not the man's face. It was his rather odd choice in clothing. He appeared to be wearing golden armour with a flowing green cape.

Being a six-year-old, Harry blurted out the first question to come to mind. "Are you my dad?"

For a moment, the man looked stunned, but then his expression transitioned into annoyance. "No! What would prompt you to think that?!" the man asked incredulously, any traces of his previous coolness gone.

Harry frowned. "Well, we look kind of similar, and the Dursleys always said my parents were weird..."

"Weird?!" the man demanded. "I am not weird!"

"Well," Harry sniggered. "You're wearing a cape..."

The man looked appalled to the point where Harry had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. "This is no mere cape; it is the pinnacle of Asgardian finery!"

Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Pinnacle? Asgardian?"

As if he was going to explain, the man opened his mouth before abruptly closing it again and sighing. "Your education can come later, for now, I must explain more crucial matters to you." He paused dramatically. "I am Loki Odinson, god of mischief, among other things."

Whilst there were other titles the mortals had bestowed upon him, he didn't exactly know which ones were correct, and were from actual oracles rather than false ones. He had thought the mortals to be wrong about everything, but with his recent realisation that he was, in fact, a son of Laufey and that they had known this millennia before he himself had, he didn't know what to think anymore.

Harry blinked. "A god? Then why are you here?"

Loki had been expecting slightly more surprise than that, but decided to go with it anyway. "To be perfectly honest, I fell from the Bifrost—"

"Bifrost?" Harry interrupted.

Loki sighed again; explaining things to this boy was _already_ annoying him. "A big rainbow bridge," he simplified. "Anyway, as I was saying before I was _interrupted"–_ he looked pointedly at Harry–"I fell from the Bifrost and found myself stripped of my physical form. As a spirit, I, of course, needed a host if I sought to remain tethered to the physical world. Luckily for me, I happened to find a mortal with a spirit – one weaker than me – inhabiting their head. You."

Harry gaped in horror. "There was something in my _head?!"_

"There is no need to thank me for ridding you of it. I now reside within you instead, and you are the only one who can see and communicate with me, thus why I am talking to you."

"There's a _god_ living inside my _head?"_ asked Harry, not looking any less horrified.

Loki frowned, slightly offended. Whilst that was greatly overly-simplified, it was essentially the truth. "Yes. Oh, you also happen to be a wizard."

"Magic is real?!"

Loki raised a single eyebrow. "You so easily believe in the gods, yet magic is infeasible to you?"

"Well, Vernon and Petunia say—" began Harry, but he was promptly interrupted.

"Vernon and Petunia? The same aunt and uncle who hate you?" Loki said, and Harry recoiled in surprise. "I live inside your head, Harry, I see the world through your eyes, and I know hatred when I see it. I have faced it many a time before."

Harry frowned. "But you're a god."

Loki's expression saddened an almost unperceivable amount. "Even gods have families, Harry." His eyes glinted as a smirk broke upon his face. "On that note, you must soon begin to learn magic if we are to leave this place, and I think your family would make simply _excellent_ test subjects."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry let himself drift away from reality, concentrating on nothing but Loki's telepathic instructions and his target, Dudley. The sounds of the school playground faded into numb static as Loki's voice became the only noise perceptible to him.

"Look at Dudley, then look beyond him. Stare upon his form in both body and spirit, and then push yourself forward," Loki whispered.

He had told Harry that whilst there were many ways to invade someone's mind, this would be the easiest by far with him helping, also simplified by the fact he was only trying to intrude upon a weak-minded child who had no innate magic to fight off invasion. It was not a mortal method, but it was one Loki himself had been quite adept at using when he himself had been young.

It had taken him quite a while to learn as a child, but he could dramatically speed the process for Harry by doing the heavy lifting himself. There was also the matter of how much weaker a mortal mind was than that of an Asgardian.

Harry followed Loki's advice to the letter, piggybacking off the Asgardian's soul to perceive more than any human could, and when he moved forward, his body did not. A portion of his mind merged with Loki's lashed towards Dudley at amazing speed, colliding with his mind.

With Loki focusing on enhancing Harry's perception rather than instructing him, Harry might have had a difficult time trying to dominate Dudley's will. Luckily for him, he only needed to influence his mind.

Gathering all the hate he had for the boy, Harry manifested it into existence, imparting upon the Dudley the first thing that came to mind. This method was in no way delicate, relying on emotion, but it could work well in some instances.

Satisfaction flared within Harry as Dudley let out a scream of terror, no doubt a result of the wave of spiders he was currently imagining flood across his vision. All of Dudley's friends laughed at the fat boy, who was still screaming even though the weak illusion had undoubtedly dispersed by this point.

Later, when the excitement had died down, Dudley glared at the Harry, who promptly swallowed. If Dudley suspected his freakishness to be at hand, Harry would be in trouble with Vernon and Petunia, evidence or not.

 _'Well,'_ began Loki, speaking directly into Harry's mind. ' _I suppose my next lesson should be self-defence.'_ He paused. _'I believe that my being torn apart may have limited my ability to plan things. Being torn apart_ does _tend to have that effect.'_

Harry was a quick learner, no doubt. Projecting your mind forward like that was no small feat for a human. From the ease with which Loki had managed to help Harry do it and see the world on a supernatural level, he thought that he might have already merged with the boy at least partially, making Harry's magic slightly Asgardian in nature. Now there was no chance of separation, not that there had been to begin with.

Whilst the magic of Asgard flowed through Harry, Loki suspected that his power levels were nowhere near that of an Asgardian if the fact that he had been exhausted by that small illusion was to say anything. Loki _might_ be able to fix that in the future, though he really had no idea. It was completely unheard of for a being of his complexity to live within a mortal's mind.

He had hoped he would be able to channel his whole power through the boy, but it was apparently not to be. He could push his mental force into helping Harry perform a spell, but not his magical strength; that part was down to Harry. With him guiding Harry's magical, mental, and physical development, however, he was sure that he could make some changes for the better—like, for example, making him into an inhuman and immoral and preferably not _completely_ insane psychopath.

If he wanted to ensure that the boy— and thus he—didn't die, the first area he would need to work on would be his personality. It would not take much of a push to turn an abused and neglected child into a cold-blooded and ruthless killer, and Loki spoke that from experience.

Dudley knowing the illusion had something to do with Harry had been an unpredicted gift. The boy would fear approaching Harry, being the coward he was, and would instead run to his parents, giving Harry a good amount of time to recharge. Physical magic tended to expend less energy than mental magic, and Loki was sure that with his guidance, Harry would have enough to kill the Dursleys.

The only thing stopping Harry from trembling in fear as he entered number four Privet Drive were the reassuring words of Loki echoing through his head. He attempted to close the door quietly, but Vernon had the ears of a bat where Harry's "mischief" was concerned and was already marching up to him.

 _'Don't let him touch you,'_ Loki mentally reminded Harry. ' _You are in danger. Remember how he normally reacts to your magic? Well, though he is borderline retarded, even a blind pig—which would be much like him, now that I think about it—could've figured out that you were doing it on his son. And, much like the blind pig, he will be angry.'_

"Boy!" Vernon screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "Do you know what Dudley has just told me?!"

"No, sir," Harry said meekly.

"Why you lit—" Vernon began, but got no further as he moved his hand to grab Harry by the shoulder.

 _'Now,'_ Loki whispered. When Harry saw the obese man move, he was preparing himself to strike, gathering his anger and negative emotion towards Vernon. As his uncle's hand touched his shoulder, Harry rammed his hand towards him, holding it only a few inches from the man's stomach.

For a moment, magic coursed through Harry, and then he let out a scream as burning coldness scorched at his palm, but then it was gone and a burst of bright light lit up his vision. When his sight returned, Harry found himself staring upon his uncle slumped against the wall with his clothing slightly frosted over at the front.

Harry had released a blast of concussive magic that only worked for a short range. From what Loki had told him, the ice must have been a result of him performing the magic imperfectly, the leakage manifesting as coldness. He frowned. Loki had said it was normally heat.

 _'From the damage on the wall behind him and the blood leaking from his nose, I'm going to say he's most likely dead,'_ Loki said, no remorse in his tone as he interrupted Harry's thought. _'Well done—oh, I mean "oops."'_

 _'Wh-what?'_ Harry asked, also speaking telepathically as he stared at the apparent corpse in horror.

A sigh echoed through Harry's mind. ' _He. Is. Dead.'_

 _'But I didn't mean to kill him!'_

 _'In the wilderness a blind pig such as he was always going to be eaten by a greater predator, no matter how angry it was.'_ He paused. _'Perhaps we should stop using this analogy, unless you are particularly hungry.'_

 _'_ _No!'_

 _'_ _No, you're not going to eat him, or no, you don't want the analogy to stop? You humans are so confusing,'_ he said. _'Anyway, y_ _ou hated him; he hated you. You were enemies, and you're meant to kill your enemies. It is not a bad thing to do, especially if you are merely a child acting in self-defence.'_ Loki sighed. ' _I guess you're going to have to kill the others as well...'_

 _'What?'_ demanded Harry. Killing one relative was bad enough.

 _'Pay attention to your surroundings, Petunia has already come in whilst we've been talking. Oh, now I can hear her sneaking up behind you. I would suggest defending yourself.'_

Harry spun, magic already flaring within him as he caught sight of his aunt wielding a kitchen knife, but he wasn't quite fast enough, and his world became pain as the blade nicked at his shoulder.

This blast of magic was unintentionally more powerful, fuelled by Harry's panic, distress, and agony. The slightly longer range dispersed it, however, so that it hit with about the same impact as it had hit Vernon, but Petunia had lunged forward and was caught under the chin.

Harry could only watch in horror as his aunt's neck was snapped and she fell to the floor limply. Suddenly fatigue hit him like a brick and both Harry and Loki knew that one more attack would leave him collapsed.

 _'Pick up the knife,'_ urged Loki. At Harry's hesitance, the god's tone grew more desperate. ' _Pick up the knife, Harry! Leaving any witnesses will be_ extremely _bad for both us! You feared an orphanage, but you would rather spend the rest of your life in a jail cell!'_

At this, conflict raged within Harry. He knew it was selfish, but there was no going back now. He had already accidentally killed his aunt and uncle. If he didn't kill Dudley as well, he might be responsible for not only his own death, but Loki's as well. He didn't want to let down the only person who had ever taught him anything. The only person who had ever shown him an ounce of kindness. Despite Loki's occasional impatience and constant apathy, he had helped Harry, and he liked him.

Loki's words echoing through his mind, Harry dropped to his knees and picked up the kitchen knife. It looked like a sword in his small hands. In that moment, Dudley came around the corner and froze. For a few seconds, Harry thought the boy would run away; instead, he seemed to instantly process his dead parents and charge at the one responsible.

And whilst he might've been smart enough to figure out what Harry had done, he was not smart enough to realise it was not a smart move to run into the pointy end of a knife.

Loki was stunned. _'He…he literally ran into your knife. Like some kind of blind pig. As many times as I've used that excuse, I've never_ seen _it actually happen.'_ He paused. _'I suppose it is a bit more plausible when they only run into the knife once, rather than a dozen times in a row.'_

Tears now streaming down his face as a barrier broke inside him, Harry fled the house without a final look back, clutching at his wound.

For a moment, Loki felt guilty. Even _he_ had not been that young when he had killed his first man. He brushed any emotion away. In the end, this was all for Harry's own good.

Now the first part of his plan had been completed, Loki knew that his next objective was to train Harry to become more powerful, but what would come after that? With a combination of his time observing the world through Harry's eyes and further recalling his memories of being a spirit, he had noticed that he had been the victim of a temporal fracture, or, in other words, he had travelled through time.

Loki had lived for millennia, but time-travel was still something he was _extremely_ careful to avoid, especially with amounts of time as large as this. Anything could go wrong, and for he knew a single paradox could collapse the universe—well, he hypothesised that it could, but couldn't know for sure, since the universe was yet to end.

This meant that until he got to a point beyond the time he had fallen from the Bifrost, Loki could not allow himself to be revealed to Asgard, the mortal world, or the previous version of himself.

Not having checked a calendar the last time he was here, Loki had no idea how long he would have to wait, but guessed that it would be under a decade. It shouldn't have been too much of an issue. By that point, Harry wouldn't have reached the end of puberty and thus would not be able to access his full potential. Being as wise as he was, Loki wouldn't have allowed his host to enter the world of gods for a few more years after that at least.

It was also at this point where if a physical form of him existed, he would find out. Loki pondered the ramifications of there being two of him at the same time who were actually capable of interacting with each other. He would have frowned if he wasn't only a spirit. In all honesty, he would most likely hate himself. After all, _both_ of them couldn't rule.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"As I said before, it was self-defence," Loki said, his illusion appearing in the alleyway, standing next to where Harry was slumped against the wall. "If you had not taken their lives, you might now be dead, and so would I."

Harry sniffled. "And what about Dudley?"

"I explained this to you as well." Loki sighed, though his tone was patient. Whilst many would not believe it, he too had once had a similar conversation. "He _literally_ ran into your knife. And have you not read the tales in which someone's parents are killed? The orphan always rises up and avenges them. You don't want that to happen to you."

With a sigh, Loki knelt down to Harry's level, manipulating the boy's nervous system so it felt as though he was tilting his head upwards. He stared into his eyes. "Harry, we are similar in many ways, destined to be outcasts among our peers. These mortals– _muggles_ –they will hate us for who we are. Our actions do not matter, for it will not change their opinions. If we are to survive, you must learn that you are far more important. With my addition to you, the blood of immortals courses through your veins."

By this point, Harry had calmed slightly. With a concealed grimace, Loki made his illusionary form pull the boy into a hug which was happily requited.

"Your wound should now be healed," murmured Loki. Whilst he couldn't outright use Harry's magic, he could manipulate a small portion of his own within Harry's own body, allowing him to heal him, manipulate his nerves, and enhance his muscles.

A cold gale whipped through the alley, but Harry didn't even shiver. Loki frowned. When Harry's magic inefficiency had taken the form of coldness instead of heat, he should have known something was afoot. A few days ago, Harry had still been as sensitive to the cold as any other human. He doubted this new affinity for ice was natural. The only explanation could be that for some reason Loki's frost giant side was having more of an effect on Harry than his Asgardian.

There were no downsides showing so far, but he hoped that Harry wouldn't end up as a blue abomination. He would have to begin altering Harry's physiology to that of an Asgardian to ensure that it didn't happen. Hopefully, he would be capable of doing that. The strength, durability, and possible power boost would no doubt aid him as well.

"Come on, Harry," whispered the god. "You must find shelter; the mortal authorities will no doubt be seeking you."

* * *

Harry leaned against the wall, observing the people as they passed, wrapped up tightly in their winter coats. Since his first use of magic he rather preferred the cold for a reason Loki had decided not to disclose.

Noticing someone walking by close to him, he did as Loki instructed. An invisible tendril of magic came into existence, and with Loki's help, Harry was able to manipulate it just enough to reach it out a gently nudge a man's wallet out of his back pocket. It fell to the floor with a quiet thump, and no one seemed to notice.

Harry waited for a few moments before walking forward and calmly picking it up. His eyes widened as he stared at its contents. Acting upon Loki's advice he had decided to target a man with more expensive looking clothing, and it seemed to have paid off. There had to be at least a few hundred pounds in here!

He pocketed the cash and dropped the wallet to the floor. Most would find it suspicious to see a child using a credit card anyway.

"Hey, kid!" a voice suddenly called from down the street, and Harry turned, his eyes widening. The man in the suit was running towards him, his face red. Harry turned and ran, zipping down the street with speed that a six-year-old shouldn't have possessed. With Loki enhancing Harry's speed, the overweight businessman had no chance and was quickly lost as Harry darted his way through London's back alleys.

 _'Good job,'_ praised Loki. ' _The man didn't notice the wallet leave his pocket, only that it wasn't there at a later date. He would have probably gone about his day if not for that.'_

 _'Thanks,'_ Harry mentally replied, gasping for breath. A few days was not long enough for Loki to transition him from human to Asgardian, and combined with the fact he was a child, he still didn't have anywhere near superhuman levels of strength, speed, durability or stamina. He was just far better than an average six-year-old, though neither Loki nor Harry saw this as a major achievement.

In a fight, he would have to reply purely on magic. His blast of pure magic was still his primary attack. Though it was inefficient, it could deal a large amount of damage, including rupturing internal organs if he was actually touching the person. He could, of course, also manipulate magic tentacle-like constructs like he had done when he had stolen the wallet, but that was hardly going to be useful in a fight.

As a result of his apparent aptitude for coldness, Loki had told him that he would teach him ice-based spells next. The god had told him that ice spells would be far less exhausting for him to use. Once again, he refused to reveal his reasoning for this, though Harry knew it was to do with his type of magic; Loki had told him that the magic within him was of mixed nature. Some of it was that of mortals, whilst some of it was that of the immortals.

Mortals apparently needed foci to channel and use their magic. Whilst Harry didn't _require_ one, it would help him. Loki claimed to know the vague location of where one could purchase wands. It was a shop in a place called Diagon Alley, though wizards didn't generally learn to manipulate their magic correctly until they were eleven and were sent to magic school. Harry was an obvious exception to this rule, having a god in his head who changed his magic, but he didn't exactly want to explain that to a shopkeeper.

 _'When am I going to get a wand, Loki?'_ Harry mentally projected. At the moment, the god could only pick up on his thoughts when he was feeling a very strong emotion.

 _'When you are capable of creating an illusion that will fool people into thinking you're an eleven-year-old. Have I not told you this before?'_

 _'No,'_ said Harry. _'You just whined about me not being big enough to wield a spear and use it to blast magic at people.'_

For a moment, Loki was silent. _'I recall that, though I did not whine. I merely criticized you.'_

Harry snorted. _'Sure you did.'_

 _'If I did_ complain, _I had a valid reason. An Asgardian focus would be able to channel both mortal and immortal magic, and you can stab people with a spear. Can you stab someone with a wand? I think not.'_

A frown came upon Harry's face. _'Well, I suppose you could jam it up their nose or something…. Would that work?'_

Loki sighed. _'If you're close enough to put your wand in someone's nose, there a variety of other techniques I can teach you.'_

 _'You mean like karate or something?'_

 _'No!'_ groaned Loki. _'Why would you ever need to perform mortal martial arts when I have trained with Asgard's finest warriors for millennia?!'_

 _'Okay, then what would you recommend?'_

 _'I_ _,'_ Loki drawled, _'would recommend that you use a spear.'_

Harry laughed. Whilst the god of mischief often came off as rude and prideful, he was quite funny–even when he didn't mean to be.

 _'Can you do Asgardian magic with a wand?'_ Harry asked.

 _'I don't know. Mortals cannot perform the magic of Asgard, and there has never been a need for an Asgardian to use a mortal wand,'_ Loki explained. He felt that he had improved quite a bit at patience over the time he had been teaching Harry, which was less than a week. He dared not say that he may have gained a bit of affection for the boy.

 _'So are there Asgardian wands?'_

 _'Yes, and they can also perform mortal magic, though it is hard for an Asgardian to channel, but unless you feel like going up to Asgard to obtain one, the only way to get them is to make one, which would also require travelling the Nine Realms._

 _'There are nine realms that you_ used _to be able to travel from via the Bifrost before my idiot of a brother broke it,'_ explained Loki. _'You have already heard of Asgard, and we are currently on Midgard. I will not tell you of the others now for they will be too dangerous for us to traverse at our levels of power, so there is no point.'_ He paused. _'Come to think of it, you probably won't remember their names anyway.'_

Harry made a minor protest of indignation, but it was most likely true. For a moment, he contemplated what a weirdo he must have looked like, sitting in an alley with glazed over eyes and occasionally giggling. From what he had heard from Vernon and Petunia, that was what drug addicts looked like, though they were usually older than him by at least a few years.

When Harry thought of his aunt and uncle, the sadness and disgust he had felt few days ago was no longer there. This was partially down to Loki's manipulations of his mind, and partially from Harry's own logic. Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had all been cruel to him because of his "freakishness." His life was far more important than theirs, for he had magic and they did not. Everyone's life was less important than his, because if he died, Loki did too, and that wasn't something he was ever going to let happen.

The god could have simply retreated to the depths of his mind or struggled to get out. He could have tried to take control of Harry, but he didn't. He could have left Harry to the wrath of the Dursleys, but he didn't. Loki was his best friend–his _only_ friend–his mentor and, from what he understood, Loki's magic influencing him effectively made them father and son.

He wouldn't let Loki die, not for anything or anyone. He didn't need friends, when they would all eventually leave him. Loki was an immortal, and so was Harry so they would live forever. Harry just had to ensure that happened and first, he would need to grow stronger, destroying any obstacle in his path. They did not matter, for his and Loki's survival was the most important thing in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Overnight, Harry slept in a dilapidated house, as he had the nights before, this time curled upon a blanket he had bought with some of the stolen cash. No matter how much money he had, most hotels didn't let an unaccompanied minor sleep in them, and a place that did probably wouldn't be very safe anyway.

To be honest, he didn't mind. He liked the winter coldness and it was quite frankly more comfortable than he had ever been at the Dursleys; here, he could actually stretch his legs.

Hunger still flared in his stomach, but at least here he could just go and buy some food–and it didn't even have to be healthy! While the teachers at school had gone on about eating a balanced diet, Loki could just speed up his metabolism and do other things to keep him as fit as possible.

Harry looked both ways before exiting the house's broken window, making sure that there were no people around, especially police officers. He had not yet run into the authorities and he didn't plan to any time soon. Whilst Loki could easily teach him how to escape a muggle prison cell, it would knock back their plans quite a bit.

McDonalds was that morning's destination of choice for breakfast. It was one of the many things Harry hadn't been allowed during his time with the Dursleys, and when he had first tried it, he had been hooked, to say the least.

He walked up to the counter, a fake smile plastered on his face as he stared up at the cashier. Loki was quite the actor and was trying to impart some of his knowledge upon his host. Apparently, appearing happy made people less suspicious of you, for whatever reason. A testament to this was the noticeable decrease in "where are your parents?" questions Harry had received with his false grin.

Now, most people who talked to him were women commenting on how cute he was. It was annoying, but it was better than questions. Loki also said that he wouldn't mind it so much when he was older, but Harry didn't really understand why.

After obtaining his breakfast burger, Harry went to the park for another day of practising magic. It was less risky than going back to the house from before, and he quite preferred to sit by the iced-over pond he had found.

"Okay," Loki began, appearing before Harry as he sat down on the ground. "Do you remember how I taught you to project your mind outwards?" He waited for Harry to nod. "Well, now you must project it inwards and stare upon the magic which flows through. A large majority of mortal wizards are unable to do this and especially at such a young age, but seeing as I am in your body, I can guide you."

Loki's illusion vanished and then Harry heard the god's voice echo through his mind. _'Are you ready?'_ he asked.

Harry nodded in affirmative.

 _'Very well. First of all, close your eyes. Now imagine instead of just blackness, there is a ball of light floating in the middle of a void. It is bright, and a familiar power seems to emanate from it. Once you can see it, imagine veins running from it, pumping that energy through your body. Sustaining and strengthening it.'_

Harry felt a nudge at his mind, and then his imagination suddenly became reality. He had no body yet was floating in a void, somehow looking at the ball of energy in front of him from all sides at once. It was a truly majestic sight, a glowing mass of swirling blue, gold, and white that seemed to slowly rotate.

Loki hummed, breaking the serenity of the moment. _'It is as I thought,'_ he murmured. _'The white part is your mortal magic, and the golden part is your Asgardian magic.'_

 _'And the blue?'_ asked Harry. He sensed Loki grimace.

 _'That is the source of your coldness related powers. That is the magic of the Jotuns.'_

Harry frowned. _'Jotuns?'_

 _'Frost giants, my child. Just as my biological parents were, and I am.'_

For a moment, Harry was silent, and Loki felt as though he was a child once again, fearing the judgement of others. Would Harry hate him for potentially passing on this curse? That would be bad—getting things done with Harry was hard enough. It would be harder if he hated him.

 _'You're not very big for a giant, you know.'_

Loki chuckled in return. _'Let us return to reality, child. We have seen what I needed to see.'_

The sensation rushing air suddenly surrounded Harry, and then he was cast back into reality, his head spinning. He let out a groan. Doing that again would best be left for a few years.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at Loki who gazed back in amusement. "Shall we get on with magic now, or is your headache too bad?"

With that, Harry was immediately ready, excitement written all over his face.

"Good," began Loki, his illusionary form vanishing then reappearing beside Harry rather than opposite him. "Now reach within yourself, and grasp your magic. Focus on the blue, its coldness, its wild nature. Push it outwards,"

Harry followed the instructions, and immediately he felt weaker yet more comfortable as his energy chilled the air around him to the point where frost instantly formed on the floor.

"Now draw it in," spoke Loki, and Harry instinctively did so.

Freezing cold power was then running through his veins as the air warmed slightly again. Harry revelled in the heavenly sensation that momentarily drowned out Loki's voice.

"-ocus, Harry," was what he heard as he came around. "Channel that energy out through your hand, and imagine it forming a block of ice."

Harry gasped once again as the energy formed ice upon his palm, the rest falling back into him.

"Good job on your first piece of controlled magic, Harry," spoke Loki, sounding slightly proud. "We shall train on this for a while before moving onto illusions."

Finally gathering his breath, Harry asked, "Will some kinds of magic be easier for me than others?"

Loki gave a slight frown. "It is hard to explain, but probably not. As you saw, your magic is always moving, its power flowing from section to section. All your magic will come from all of the differently coloured parts." He paused. "Though I estimate that mortal magic will be slightly harder than the other two, seeing as with immortal magic your very body is powered by the energy, thus why immortals usually don't use foci for smaller tasks. Asgardian magic will be hard at a young age, but as you grow it shall become easier; it requires a lot of power to use.

"Midgardian magic, however, is not permanently within you. It flows through you from the magic in the air, largely uncontrollable without a focus."

Harry couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face. He might have had a long way to go, but he was actually learning magic!

There were two types of illusions, photokinetic and telepathic, with the former relying on manipulating light and vibrations to make something look and sound as though it was there, and the latter being controlling the target's to make them _think_ that they saw something is there.

When operating upon a single victim, telepathy was generally the way to go unless you were up against a being with a fortified mind. Using telepathy on multiple targets, however, was generally not a good idea.

You would have to multi-task and control two or more minds simultaneously, all while ensuring that both were seeing exactly the same thing if you didn't wish for them to see through it. A minor mistake could cause you to be discovered.

With light, you couldn't go wrong unless you screwed up the illusion, although unlike with telepathy you couldn't simulate touching them or pain. Loki himself had managed to achieve a blend of the two, being the master of illusion he was. Light worked the best for appearance, and mixed with telepathy it could give a completely realistic representation to a crowd seeing as though it was not likely one would have to simulate to touch to multiple people at the same time.

Harry, being a beginner, had to use telepathic illusions since Loki's sheer mental force could help greatly when performing the potent Asgardian magic. He got the opportunity to test this as a teenager demanded his wallet a few weeks after he had first accessed his magical core. Loki could only laugh condescendingly as he stared upon the spotty teen through Harry's eyes.

"C-come on!" the teen said. He had already been nervous to begin with and this had only been worsened by Harry's apparent lack of fear.

 _'Go on,'_ urged Loki. ' _Humiliate him. How much of an idiot do you have to be to not bring a weapon when mugging someone?'_

With the full force of an Asgardian behind him, Harry projected his mind forward into the boy's. This was almost exactly the same thing as he had done to Dudley in the playground, but this time, a few things were added: sound and would-be mugger screamed as a mighty roar sounded beside him and a fully-grown lion seemingly burst from the wall beside him with a mighty roar. He didn't have time to register its slightly cartoonish features before it raked a massive claw across his face and pain overwhelmed him.

It was not the pain that an _actual_ lion wound, merely what Harry had felt when he had accidentally cut his hand with a kitchen knife one time. He had merely moved it to his victim's face and multiplied it by three to simulate a lion.

Did lions have three claws? He wasn't really sure. The teenager didn't seem sure either, but he wasn't exactly thinking logically at that moment... It might have also had something to do with the massive amounts of illusionary blood Harry was creating from his face. He had accidentally let the illusion of the lion disperse, but that didn't really make a difference to the boy as he sprinted from the scene clutching at his face and screaming like a maniac.

What had he been thinking anyway? The average child didn't have amounts of money worth mugging–even if Harry did have a few hundred pounds in his pocket. Harry supposed that the boy had just been a bit of an idiot. Unfortunately, that meant he probably still needed a lot more training if his illusion on someone so dumb had still failed in some places.

That was a problem because he _really_ wanted a wand and Loki wouldn't let him get one until he could form an illusion potent enough to fool a lot of people, so it would have to be a light illusion. He would also have to hold it for quite some time, which could prove difficult.

Loki estimated that it would take at least two years of magical training before he could do it, though Harry was determined to prove him wrong.

Harry frowned as the sound of drunken laughter reached his ears. With that he turned and began to jog back towards the abandoned house which would once again be his residence for the night; he didn't want to be out here when darkness fell.

* * *

What could have only been hours after he had fallen asleep, Harry awoke as something knocked against his mind.

 _'Don't make a sound,'_ murmured Loki. _'Do not panic, but I can hear someone outside the building.'_

Harry let Loki's words echo through his mind for a moment before he forced himself to calm his breathing, staying as silent as possible. He too could hear something.

"I doubt the boy's still there anyway," said someone.

"Oh, come on. Afraid of a bit of a risk?" the other taunted. "A homeless kid will fetch a lot of money."

Harry let out a silent swear. Someone must have seen him enter. His hearing, though enhanced by Loki, couldn't quite pick out the rest as their voices quietened. Moving over to the window, Harry moved the planks covering it aside as quietly as he could. He had just heard them enter the front door, so he couldn't go out this way.

 _'Loki?'_ he asked tentatively. _'Are you sure you've done this right.'_

Loki scoffed. _'Of course I've done it right–just be sure to roll just in case.'_

Not allowing himself any time to hesitate as the stairs began to creak, Harry dropped from the window frame. For a very brief moment, wind rushed through his ears–and then he had hit the concrete feet-first, rolling in exactly the way Loki had taught him–and then he tripped over a rock.

He couldn't stop himself letting out a cry of pain as he cut his elbow on some broken glass.

 _'Run!'_ Loki urged, but it was already too late. Neither of them had noticed that one man had remained downstairs. Panic rose up inside Harry, but he ruthlessly batted it away as Loki barked out an order.

One moment the man was looming over him with a predatory grin upon his face, and the next a flash of coldness travelled through the air. The man froze as a blue power began to gather in Harry's palm, and he stayed that way, having no time to react as an icicle stabbed into his heart.

Allowing fatigue and emotion to have no effect upon him, Harry turned, all but the pupil of his eye flashing red as he fired another bolt of ice, striking the man who had just rounded the corner in his mid-section.

Breathing heavily, Harry stared with wide eyes down upon the two soon-to-be corpses. He had handled them with no problem. Perhaps he had underestimated himself. Emotion began to swell within him as he looked at the man he had just killed, but retreated as Loki appeared in front of him, blocking his view.

"Good job, Harry," he said proudly, pulling the boy into an illusionary hug with a smile. "Good job."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Harry walked forward, his illusionary form waving goodbye to the hotel's receptionist as he left the building. He was now approaching his ninth birthday and Loki had deemed him capable enough at light illusions to conceal his appearance when getting a wand. In fact, he was more than capable seeing as he could pass as a rather small eleven year-old and would only need to cast an illusion over his face. What was more important was that if he managed to catch one or two by surprise, he would be able to easily deal with battling wizards.

Loki believed that Harry's parents had been magical from the way the Dursleys had always talked about them, also having suspicions that they had been murdered by a wizard as well. The illusions were simply precautions to ensure that no friends of his dead parents attempted to "rescue" him. Harry would also need to probably disguise himself as an adult if he wanted to purchase "darker" reading material.

Loki was well aware that just like Asgardians, humans – even wizards – tended to worship or fear and persecute all that they did not understand. Whilst the beings like him and Thor had received the former treatment when they had visited Midgard, "dark" or powerful magic tended to receive the latter. Harry didn't want to be seen buying books on dark magic, and shopkeepers probably wouldn't sell them to children anyway….

Overnight Loki had told Harry to sleep in a hotel nearby to where he remembered the entrance to the wizarding world was. It would not do for him to be tired when entering a world where he might be forced to fight wizards for the first time. Now Harry walked around, waiting for Loki's magic-sensitive senses to alert him of the entrance's location.

"I thought you said you already knew where it was," he muttered.

 _'I_ used _to know where it was. Believe it or not, cities do tend do change over the course of a couple centuries.'_ He paused before adding, _'And talk in your head, you don't want these people to think you're crazy.'_

 _'Isn't talking to voices in my head even_ more _crazy than speaking to myself?'_

Loki was silent for a moment. _'Well_ yes, _bu_ _t_ _they won't know you_ _'_ _r_ _e_ _doing it.'_

 _'But_ I'll _know I'm crazy!'_ Harry exclaimed.

 _'I actually exist though, I-'_ Loki paused. _'You're just doing this to annoy me, aren't you?'_ Harry laughed in affirmative and the god sighed. _'Stop being difficult and shut up. I need to concentrate.'_

While frustrating Loki was fun, getting a wand would be more fun, and Harry decided to follow his instructions. After a while of walking, Loki said, _'Stop, and look to your right.'_

Harry did so, and saw a building that the muggles seemed to not even notice as they walked past. _The Leaky Cauldron_ read a sign above its door.

 _'Is this it?'_ asked Harry.

Loki scoffed. _'With a name that stupid, it can't be anything else.'_

Harry gave a snort of laughter before moving towards the wizarding pub. As he entered the door, he bended the light around him with only the slightest strain, only having to change his eyes and hair to brown and mask the scar that for some reason wouldn't go away. Loki suggested it was because of the being that had previously inhabited it, but his unfamiliarity with mortal magic made him unsure.

One look around the room confirmed to Harry that he was in the wizarding world. Loki had been the only person he had ever seen a robe beforehand – it was really more of an overcoat anyway – but at least _his_ were stylish. The wizards and witches seemed to have looked through a catalogue of clothes and then decided to wear what would make them look most idiotic. There didn't really seem to be any practicality in them either, unless looking like the most cliché wizard possible gave you some kind of boost to your spell-casting ability.

Following Loki's instruction, Harry walked to the back the room and out of the door, emerging into a...dead end?

He appeared to be in an alleyway, scraps of rubbish laying around him and a dirty brick wall in front of him.

 _'I can sense something lays on the other side, but I don't think they'll appreciate us blowing up the wall,'_ murmured Loki. _'I believe there is a ward hiding noise from us, maybe sight too.'_

The god had now spent enough time in Harry's head that he had been able to edit the boy's senses, so to speak, so that he could detect magic in the same way that a very small amount of Asgardians could.

 _'Climb over it,'_ Loki finally decided. With a moment of hesitation, Harry began to climb the wall.

By this point, Loki had enhanced him beyond the level of a normal human, easily allowing him to lift his own body weight over the wall – even if his strength wasn't anywhere near that of a fully-grown Asgardian.

As he fell to the floor on the other side, colours entered the world, replacing the dull greyness of the previous alleyway and London sky.

As predicted, noise accompanied the new sight, and Harry found himself in another alleyway, though this one was far different. It was bustling with wizards and witches, all dressed in equally obnoxious robes as the ones in the Leaky Cauldron had been. Shops lined the sides of the street, each selling the most cliché objects possible. From cauldrons to potions. Harry even saw a few people wearing pointed hats. Any thoughts of Loki dressing like a weirdo were instantly wiped from Harry's mind.

 _'Asgardian magicians are_ far _more normal than this, and_ that's _saying something…. Just focus on getting a what we came for and not letting your illusion fade. We will have time to laugh at them later.'_

 _'Wand first?'_ Harry asked.

Loki hummed in affirmative and he began to walk forward. Even with Loki ranting about the alley's poor design, Harry eventually found a shop named _Ollivanders_ , a sign atop its door proclaiming it a maker of wands since 382 B.C.

Ignoring the god Harry entered the shop. Suddenly a chill travelled down his spine, and Loki abruptly stopped talking, before whispering. _'I should have known by the sign.'_

For the first time, Harry could feel fear coming from Loki. _'Should have known what?'_ he asked, trying not to panic as for the first time in his life, the being that had always been strong for him displayed weakness.

 _'Okay Harry,'_ he began, his tone once again calm. _'Whilst our telepathic conversation is faster than speech, I cannot explain at the moment. You must act like me, pretend to be me, and repeat what I say. The man will not dare do anything if he believes he is conversing with Loki.'_

 _'Wha-'_ Harry got no further in his enquiry as a man stepped from the shadows on the other side of the room.

"My, my. The aura of an Asgardian – and is that a hint of Jotun? It has been a long time, Loki Odinson. From the ice magic I can sense flowing through your veins I assume you have discovered your true parentage?" the man asked.

"Yes, though why am I not surprised that you already knew?" said Harry, repeating Loki's words and mimicking his tone and arrogant demeanour as he let the illusion disperse. "But that is not what I wish to discuss, Vandr."

"Oh?" Ollivander, who Harry had decided was now whoever Vandr was, raised an eyebrow. "I had thought you had came in the guise of a child for a reason, but now your illusion is gone and I see a child who looks much like you did at that age with Harry Potter's scar upon his forehead-"

Before he could say anything further, Harry interrupted. "What? How do you know of the scar upon my vessel?"

For a moment, Vandr looked surprised, but then his expression smoothed over. "Ah, I suppose news of mortals tends not to reach Asgard. Nonetheless, the body you now dwell within is that of the Boy-Who-Lived, the only mortal to ever survive the killing curse, and something of a messiah to the wizarding world." He paused. "May I inquire as to _why_ you have taken the body of him?"

Harry could feel Loki rushing for an answer that would not alert the man of his weakness. "May _I_ inquire as to why you felt the need to falsify your demise and live on Midgard?"

Vandr tilted back his head and laughed. "Ah, Loki, how I have not missed you and your silver tongue!" he exclaimed. "Now, I suppose you'll be wanting a wand?"

"Yes. How exactly do I go about getting one that matches me?"

Vandr grinned gleefully. "Normally you would have to go through many a box searching for a wand to fit you, but I have just the thing."

As the man disappeared into a back room, Harry began to question Loki. _'Who the hell was that?'_ he demanded.

 _'Vandr,'_ Loki unhelpfully supplied. _'An Asgardian sorcerer I thought long dead. His enchanting skills are unmatched by even my own, and I am not exactly surprised that he has decided to sell wands for a living.'_

If Loki was going to say anything else, he was stopped as Vandr returned, now carrying a slim golden box which he presented to Harry, opening the lid. Inside laid a golden rod around a foot in length that tapered down to a needle-sharp point, a handle wrapped in white leather the only part free of elaborate carvings and runes.

Harry felt Loki start. _'What is it?'_ he asked.

 _'I was not expecting him to have Asgardian metals,'_ Loki murmured. _'I do not detect any traps. Pick it up.'_

As Harry lifted the wand into his hand a comfortable coldness shot through his body, his magic reacting to the wand's call. Light began to spill from the runes, a blue and golden glow that illuminated the dimly-lit room. For a moment, the rest of Harry's world was drowned out by the blissful sensation that was coursing through his body, but then he was nudged back into reality by Loki.

 _'This feels familiar. Ask him what is inside it.'_

"What is inside of it?"

Vandr cackled ominously. "Before I left Asgard, I managed to capture a sample of the Casket of Ancient Winters' power." A jolt of shock came from Loki. "I fashioned it into a wand for myself in case I ran into any trouble, but even with the copious amounts of Asgardian enchantment I put into it, it refused to comply with me. But you, Loki, are perfect. Part Asgardian, and part Jotun! The wand was practically made for you! It isn't as though I can sell it to anyone else, so you might as well have it free."

"And not because of the favour you owe me?" Harry asked, once again copying out Loki's words.

Vandr chuckled. "You never change, old friend."

Surprise shot through Harry. If Loki was suspicions of his _friends_ killing him when he was weak, what did he think about his enemies? "Goodbye, Vandr. Do not tell anyone of me being here, and I will offer you the same courtesy."

"Very well, Harry Potter, or would you prefer I call you Harry Lokison?"

Before the dumbstruck Harry could reply, Vandr had vanished into the back of his shop.

 _'How did he know?'_ Harry wondered as he exited the shop.

 _'I'm not sure,'_ Loki replied. _' Your acting was flawless. Perhaps if you had worn a cape he wouldn't have known,'_ he said, attempting to joke about the unnerving situation.

Harry snorted before wrapping his illusion around himself once again and making his way to find a bookshop, both to find out about himself and mortal magic.

The first book store he entered, _Florish and Blotts,_ bore many useful looking books. Upon Loki's guidance Harry picked out a few on basic magical theory and a few low-level ones as well as one on a range of defensive magic. After also picking up one named _The Rise and Fall of the Dart Arts,_ Harry paid the cashier with some illusionary golden coins that every seemed to be using and left with his bag.

From looking in the other bookshops in Diagon Alley it seemed as though that there were no shops with books detailing darker spells, and both Harry and Loki were starting to suspect that they might actually be illegal. It looked like their only option was to go into a place called Knockturn Alley where all of the black-market seemed to be situated.

A single glance into it revealed that it didn't look to be the kind of place Harry would want to visit with only one hand free. He decided upon coming back the tomorrow.

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed. I didn't want to do the whole cliche 10,000 word Diagon Alley trip, so after a visit to Knockturn next chapter it will be over. There's the introduction of Vandr, who will probably be in the story at some other points. Tell me what you thought!**

 **I should clarify that Vandr is an original character, and that the Casket of Ancient Winters is the ice thing in Odin's Vault from Thor 1**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After spending the rest of the day and most of the night reading through his newly purchased books, Harry had came to an unexpected revelation: wand magic was boring. There was no icy coldness rushing through his veins like with Jotun magic. There wasn't the flood of adrenaline that came with the magic of Asgard.

No, you just did a spell over and over again until it worked and that was it. No sensation. Hell, reading _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ had been more fun, even if only to read about the ridiculous conspiracy theories concerning where he had been sent to live. Apparently he was being trained by an insane old wizard named Dumbledore at Hogwarts to be the next Minister of Magic.

Loki had actually laughed when they had came across those names and Harry was only reaffirmed in his belief that wizards attempted to look as idiotic as possible. He supposed it helped with staying secret as well. Which muggle would believe that someone wearing a brightly-coloured bathrobe and waving a stick around was an elite wizard trained by the Supreme Mugwump at a place named _Hogwarts?!_ Anyone who thought that to be the truth would probably already be in an asylum.

Whilst Harry didn't like wand magic, he did, however, like his new wand. It made both Asgardian and Jotun magic far easier, though Loki suspected that it limited his potential with mortal magic. Neither of them really cared about that though seeing as the magic of immortals tended to be much more powerful, not to mention more exciting.

The wand was also good for stabbing people which Loki thought would help greatly in close-quarters situations. Harry was now at an age where he could wield knives or daggers with slight efficiency, so Loki wanted to teach him how to use those. It would probably take Harry decades or even centuries to become as adept as Loki with illusions, so the god's usual method of stabbing them in the back wouldn't be able to work as often for him, thus his training with blades.

One problem had occurred with the wand, however. It was far too large to fit safetly in the pocket of any of Harry's clothing. Luckily it did appear to be enchanted so that the point of it wouldn't cut unless it was the user's intention, so Harry didn't have to worry about impaling himself on it when he eventually obtained a way to hold it.

Loki was certain that at least _one_ wizarding shop would be logical enough to provide wand holsters. If not Harry would probably have to make one for himself.

So he set off towards Diagon Alley once again, now only concealing his scar. He looked more like Loki than he did his parents and if Harry Potter was famous for his scar, no one would know it was him.

This time he managed to get to the wall into the alley just after an elderly witch. It was revealed that you had to tap the bricks in a certain order to get through, though neither Loki or Harry had any idea why that was in the first place. No muggle would be able to get through the Leaky Cauldron, and any wizard could quite easily blow a hole in it anyway.

With a shrug Harry followed the witch through the gap and made his way to find a bank first. He didn't want to have to do telepathic illusions on fully-grown people with magic to defend their minds whilst simultaneously holding a light illusion.

Eventually he found it. A large marble building named _Gringotts_ with what Loki said were goblins standing outside.

 _'Despicable creatures,'_ Loki muttered. _'The disgusting spawns of dark elves and humans. Do not trust them.'_

Harry snorted as he walked towards the entrance, glancing at the words engraved above the door. _'You don't want me to trust_ anyone. _'_

 _'Do not trust anyone, but especially don't touch the goblins,'_ Loki reworded without any obvious trace of humour in his telepathic voice.

Ignoring the guards by the doors, Harry wandered into the bank. Fortunately it was still too early for there to be large queues and he moved straight up to the counter. The goblin looked up sharply as he walked up to him.

 _'Um, they can't sense you, can they?'_

 _'Most likely not. Perhaps one of their Elders could, but a cashier could not be one. Hopefully not anyway.'_ Loki seemed cautious.

Harry pulled a few thousand pounds of stolen money from his pocket and waved it in front of the teller. "Could you convert this to wizarding currency for me please?"

The goblin snatched it from his hand, sniffing it before nodding tightly. He pulled open a draw and began to sort through it, withdrawing gold, silver, and bronze coins. "17 sickles in a galleon, 29 knuts in a sickle. One galleon for an expanded pouch to hold them," he explained swiftly as though he had said this a thousand times before.

Harry nodded and took the bag from the goblin, turning and walking from the band with only a glance backwards, already planning his route to his next destination.

As he came the entrance of Knockturn Alley he stepped into the shadows and made sure no one was watching before lifting his wand and beginning to weave an illusion around himself. Quick illusions were never as good as ones that took longer, but they had been all Harry needed for his scar. This, however, was very different.

Illusions focused upon oneself were far easier than ones that were not. Disguising yourself as far taller than you actually were for an extended amount of time was still very difficult, however. Harry modelled his illusion upon Loki, making him wear quite an ordinary black cloak. That meant he wouldn't have to focus on any details underneath, which was one of the harder aspects of illusion.

When doing an Asgardian illusion you had to subconsciously focus on the details of it at all times so that it remained unchanged. This was far easier for Asgardians with their vaster minds, but Harry was able to do it with a lot of help from Loki, who was possibly the best at it currently living. The god was able to form dozens of illusionary forms and once and sustain them for some time – more than long enough for him to sneak up behind his opponent as slip a knife between their ribs.

Eventually Harry completed the illusion, and when he stared into the mirror, a person who looked a lot like Loki stared back.

 _'Do not touch anyone,'_ Loki reminded him. _'We do not want to be forced to hold a telepathic and photokinetic illusion simultaneously.'_

Harry nodded before making his way down the alley, making sure to take the longest steps he could and walk with confidence in his stride. Loki had taught him that no one would attack him or suspect him of anything if he looked as though he was meant to be here.

It seemed to work because with an arrogant sneer befitting of the real Loki on his illusionary face, no one dared question him, but that just might have been the nature of the kind of people that dwelled within this alley.

Harry seemed to pass all manner of shops, selling different versions of the things that were within Diagon Alley. He passed shops with pets, potions, and all manner of forbidden options. A quite non-discreet sign on the front of one seemed to imply it sold muggle slaves, something Loki thoroughly approved of.

A few bookshops seemed to litter the alley, but Loki immediately dismissed them as too blatant. It was not until they reached deep into the alley that he ordered Harry to stop.

 _'Wait_ ' he murmured, directing Harry to look at a shop on his right. Its windows were dirty, affording them no view of the inside. Atop its door sat a sign, slightly tilted downwards. It read _Haysmith's Books_.

 _'Why this one?'_ Harry questioned.

 _'The man who just entered wore the clothes of a noble and walked confidently though was clearly alert. If that is not a competent wizard, I do not know what is,'_ Loki explained. _'Since we do not know what we are doing, we must take the advice of the locals, whether they know it or not.'_

Harry made sure his illusion was still secure before striding forward and pushing the door open. Immediately the attention of the two other people in the room was upon him. There was the black-haired man who had just entered and a shopkeeper with greying blond hair. His illusionary form nodded at them before moving over to the corner where the books appeared to be kept.

Even with his back to the men, Harry could still sense that they were staring at him. He supposed that Haysmith didn't get many new customers. Harry focused on looking at a reflection in front of him to ensure that neither of the men made an attempt to attack him whilst Loki looked over the books through his eyes.

Finally Loki decided to only take a few for now, rationalising that they didn't want to be walking down Knockturn Alley without any hands free. After a moment, Loki chose three books, all relatively slim. Harry paused on his way to the counter, grabbing what appeared to be an ordinary wand holster. He also went to pick up an enchanted dagger but Loki insisted that one made by himself would be infinitely more reliable.

Less than a minute later, Harry had completed his transaction with the shopkeeper and was on his way out of the shop. As he walked back towards Diagon Alley, Loki noticed something out of the corner of Harry's eye. Two burly men appeared to be following him, each dressed in shabby clothing and already holding their wands.

Loki ran over the route that had brought them here, his near-perfect memory recalling an alley coming up on his right and telling Harry to go into it. If the men weren't following him they would walk past. If they were...well, they would be the first people Harry got to test his new wand on….

As the alley came up, Harry instantly ducked into it – and bumped into a third man, also wielding a wand. The sounds of footsteps dashing across the ground behind him registered upon Harry's ears and he ducked. A bolt of red light zipped over his head as a man yelled, _"Stupefy,"_ blasting through his illusionary form and splashing into the chest of the third man who Harry suspected to be working with the others.

Harry was spinning on his heel before the man's limp body hit the floor, his wand whipping forward as its runes glowed with blue light. The caster of the Stunning Spell was ironically too stunned by his spell seemingly moving through his opponent to react as an icicle burst from the tip of Harry's wand and stabbed into his chest.

" _Protego!"_ yelled the final man just as Harry fired another icicle. At first nothing appeared to happen, but then blue light shimmered through the air as the ice shattered against a previously unseen shield.

Before Harry could react the man screamed, _"Flippendo!"_

The only sign of anything happening was a slight shimmering in the air before Harry leapt out of the way, narrowly avoiding the kinetic force. Harry swept his wand at the wizard once again and the wizard cast another shield charm. Harry, however, had not been aiming at the wizard, who promptly slipped on the iced-over ground at his feet.

To Harry's annoyance he managed to keep his grip upon his wand and cast another shield as he sent yet another icicle at him. With a swear word, Harry span on his heel and ran, disappearing behind a bend in the alley. The man was soon after him, rage burning in his eyes at the thought of his dead friend – and then something stabbed into his left side as he rounded the corner, seven inches of freezing-cold metal slipping between his ribs.

As he fell to the floor and darkness began to envelop him, he looked up to see a boy staring down at him. Upon closer inspection, the child's eyes were red and he held the instrument of the man's murder in his hand, wiping the blood on his trousers as he grinned proudly. To the man, that grin wasn't proud, it was maniacal.

In the boy's eyes he saw nothing but ancient and alien power swirling as they returned to their natural green. A sharp pain in his side reminded him of his impending demise. _No_ , he decided. This was no boy, it was a demon…. Perhaps not a demon, the man had led a sinful life, after all, robbing people in alleys – this was a harbinger of justice. Not an angel though, those eyes – almost the same shade as the feared Killing Curse – were far too terrifying to be angelic. This was a god. A fallen god.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading, tell me what you thought!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Harry awoke to the sound of an owl of all things and frowned. It having been just over two years since he had first ventured into the wizarding world, he was used to such oddities when he was visiting there, but in the middle of muggle London? Well, there were weird things in London, but they didn't usually include owls…. After a few moments he recalled that owls were used to send messages in the wizarding world, being the backwards society they were.

 _'Any ideas?'_ he asked Loki.

The god was silent for a moment, doubtlessly scouring his near-perfect memory for anything that might reveal what the owl wanted. He evidently drew up a blank. _'No wizards know your address, and there no wards that might alert them to your location.'_ He paused. _'Perhaps the muggles have decided to revert to avian messengers once again? It is such a stupid idea that it wouldn't surprise me….'_

Harry snorted. He was fairly sure that he was the only human, magic or muggle, that Loki would actually ever like. The god thought of mortals with disdain at best and utter hatred at worst. Until a year or so ago he had been more tolerant of them – that was until Harry had actually read a Norse Mythology book. To say the least, he had been...displeased by their depiction of him, even if he admitted to a large majority of it being true.

Personally Harry thought that he was probably just envious of the worship his adopted brother Thor had gotten even though he had also went around killing people – not that he would ever mention that to Loki, of course.

Wandering over to his window, Harry opened it and began to reach for the letter in owls hands.

 _'Don't!'_ Loki suddenly said. _'I can detect a tracing charm on it, and there might be other things.'_

Drawing his hand back rapidly, Harry drew his hands back rapidly as he stared at the letter. Upon it was a symbol he recognized from books: the Hogwarts crest. _'They don't usually have tracing_

 _charms on, do they?'_

 _'I'm not-'_ Loki was interrupted as a series of sharp _cracks_ broke through the morning's quiet.

"I'm going to take that as a no," Harry muttered aloud as he dashed back towards his bed. From the distinctive sound of apparation, he predicted that multiple wizards had just appeared a few floors below him and were heading up now. He didn't doubt that they had been the ones to place a tracing charm on the Hogwarts letter, and from Harry's messiah-like status within the wizarding world, there was a good chance that Dumbledore was here.

While Harry didn't doubt that with the element of surprise he could absolutely destroy the vast majority of wizards in combat, Albus Dumbledore was certainly part of the minority, and with multiple others with him, Harry would have no chance. Somehow he felt as though they might not take no as an answer for his entrance to Hogwarts. He wasn't willing to stay and find out.

They had most likely appeared on the ground floor and Harry was on the fifth. While wizards didn't understand things such as elevators, they would be up to him soon. He picked up his wand and waved it through the air, summoning his various belongings from around the room and into a slightly-expanded backpack. He hurriedly changed from his pyjamas to jeans and a shirt, strapping his wand holster to his forearm as his enhanced hearing picked up the thumping of feet and sound of voices.

He moved back over to the window and climbed out upon the ledge outside. As someone knocked upon his room door, he took one final glance backwards before shutting the window and pointing his wand at himself. He muttered a few spells before leaping from the ledge.

Wind rushed through his ears for a few moments and then he collided with the surface of the River Thames seventy feet below.

As the dirty water surrounded him, he was suddenly extremely glad that he had thought to use water-proofing and bubblehead charms. There was also Loki to thank for the fact he was not feeling any pain, the god having dulled the sensation.

Just to be safe, Harry swam across the filthy river to the opposite bank, never breaking the surface. Upon the other side he dragged himself to the shore, undoing the charms before producing his wand and carefully wrapping himself in the illusion of a rather short, black-haired man wearing a shabby brown suit. It was his favourite form for staying inconspicuous. No one would give him a second look, muggles and wizards alike.

With a final glance backwards, Harry walked up the stairs of the stony beach and disappeared into the steets London.

His apartment's location being compromised wasn't _too_ big an issue. It had all been paid for using illusions, mind control, and small amounts of real money when Harry was too tired to produce anything else. As far as he was aware, he had been able to bring all of his belongings but for bathroom products. All in all it wasn't too big of a loss, but that didn't mean it wasn't bloody _annoying._

He had been settled there for a greater part of a year and had been planning on setting up wards quite soon. Wards that would have stopped him being found if only he had thought to put them up a few days earlier. He had already had anti-tracking charms on him but Hogwarts seemed to have somehow bypassed them.

Loki was unsure of the capabilities of Dumbledore and the school itself. Since Harry had nothing to learn at Hogwarts anyway, it would be best if he went far out of its reach. With Loki speaking in AllSpeak, a language that translated into the native tongue of whoever he was talking to, they could essentially go anywhere since he would only need a few weeks to teach a whole language to Harry by essentially copying the information straight into his brain.

It was quite a strenuous process and discovering that a mortal mind couldn't be taught to speak in complete AllSpeak had been quite painful for both of them, prompting them to only learn a single language. Loki had chosen that the best for Harry to learn had been Russian as a result of how large Russia was, but also because no one would expect Harry Potter to be in Russia.

So after catching a taxi to Gatwick Airport and using a few illusions, Harry was on a flight to Moscow.

As he had in Gatwick, he wrapped a slight illusion around himself for the sake of the CCTV cameras, changing his hair to dirty blond and his eyes to light brown whilst greatly changing his facial features and obscuring his scar. He would be near unrecognizable.

As he got to the Customs and Immigration counter, he subtly lifted his wand and pushed a mental compulsion of mortal magic upon the man in front of him, not knowing what illusionary documents would be required to let him in. The muggle's eyes glazed over as they waved him through.

Harry moved forward and the hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly standing on end.

Loki cursed. _'A magic detection ward. Someone knows we're here.'_

Harry looked to the right and mimicked Loki's curse as he saw two men in black trenchcoats strolling towards him, wands in hand. He turned left and saw three coming from that direction as well. From the looks of things, Russian wizards cooperated with the muggle government significantly better than the British did.

Turning forward once again, Harry began to sprint. A voice behind him yelled, "Stop!" in Russian and Harry's limited AllSpeak automatically translated it. Well, at least _that_ was working. He didn't stop, and a red light zipped by his left and hit a person in front of him. Harry span, whipped his hand forward and icing the ground in front of his pursuers.

They skidded to a halt and then all began to cast spells, bolts of light that Harry thought were probably non-lethal from the fact they were firing into the crowd around him again. Nonetheless, he began to dodge around them with superhuman speed, reflexes and agility as he readily backed away.

One spell almost hit him, but it was deflected as Harry summoned a shield of ice into existence. Rounding a corner and bursting through a door into a corridor, he concentrated for a moment, coating it in ice.

When the Russians blasted it down a few seconds later, the ice only extending their time of entry for a few moments, they charged through to only find an empty corridor but for a terrified-looking businessman cowering in the corner and a smashed window leading to the concrete a few dozen feet below.

The apparent leader swore. "Obliviate him!" he ordered to one of the group, pointing at the man in the corner as they took off at a sprint to capture their intruder before he escaped. The man who had been instructed to oblivate the muggle strode over to him, pointing his wand at the rather short man in the shabby brown suit. _"Oblivi-"_ was all he managed to say before the man shot up and punched him in the stomach and then grabbed him by his collar and smashed his head into the wall.

The Russian's unconscious body fell to the floor, and the brown-suited man flickered out of existence, Harry resuming his blond-haired form. As soon as he had realized that being in a crowd severely limited the options of the Russians, he had decided that he would be able to forgo using his wand in combat against them in favour of keeping it concealed in his other hand, weaving an illusion.

Going into a firefight in an area as crowded as this would have undoubtedly been foolish on his part too. As soon as he accidentally killed a muggle they would probably begin to use lethal methods as well, and Harry wasn't prepared to risk fighting five highly-trained wizards at once.

He re-holstered his wand at his left wrist and touched it with his right hand, channelling his power through it as he prepared to wrap an illusion around himself once again.

Suddenly the door burst open and a man holding a pistol burst through. After one look at Harry standing over and unconscious body, he began to yell. "Get on the ground! Put your-"

He was stopped from getting any further as Harry swept his hands sideways and a winter wind whipped into the corridor, slamming into the man's side. The gun roared twice as Harry surged forward, its wielder blinded as wind buffeted his eyes. He did, however, manage to shoot Harry and the boy hit the floor with a scream. The man let out a similar noise as an icicle pierced straight through his arm and impaled him to the wall.

 _'Am I going to die?'_ Harry asked morbidly. For a moment he had felt a burning hot pain, but then everything had went numb.

 _'Are you stupid?'_ Loki demanded. _'You got hit in the shoulder...'_

Harry was slightly confused. _'Oh, I thought it would be more painful, because they always say that it goes numb and stuff when you're dying-'_

Loki sighed. _'Who says that, movies? Are you trusting films to provide you with facts?! I am the one negating the pain so that you can escape without breaking down into tears. Now get up. I will begin to heal the wound.'_

Harry complied and climbed to his feet with a glance at his now bloodstained clothes, absently noting that the illusion of blondness had dispersed a while ago. Putting it back on, he walked over to the shattered window and made sure the path was clear before dropping to the concrete around seven meters below and rolling to his feet.

No one noticed him as he sprinted towards the airport's perimeter at world record speeds. No one but the security cameras.

 **A/N: Whilst Harry will probably eventually go to Hogwarts (though most likely not in the way you're thinking), he will not go yet.**

 **A little bit of a hint at the end there, but whoever could have access to security footage all over the world? ;) Tell me what you thought, all feedback is welcome!**

 **In case anyone is wondering, AllSpeak is a real thing - in the comics at least. It could also be the MCU explanation for why Asgardians speak English, and why Loki speaks it modernly whilst Thor speaks in Old English, seeing as Loki is more magically powerful and it may link into magic.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The Russian Minister of Magic, was angry, severely so. He took security very seriously. So much so, in fact, that all portkey and apparation traffic inside Moscow was carefully monitored and controlled. He had even placed ten of their agents in each of the muggle airports inside the city in order to ensure that no wizards slipped in without notice.

Apparently a child had managed to outwit _five_ fully-trained wizards and escape into the city. Surveying the CCTV footage had revealed that the boy hadn't even been using a _wand_ to do his magic _._ The child – if that hadn't just been one of his other disguises – had shown prowess with wandless, wordless magic that only the likes of magical titans such as Albus Dumbledore possessed.

There was also the fact that his magic had been unlike anything he had ever seen. Hell, had it even been magic? The boy had seen to control minds, create ice, shapeshift, and have levels of strength that he didn't look as though he should have had. The Minister was well aware that the magic wards in place could detect forms of energy inhuman other than magic.

Before becoming the Minister, he had been the ambassador between the previous Minister of Magic and the Russian president. This had given him certain contacts in the muggle world. Perhaps this was something best left to them. As much as he hated letting _them_ operate in his country, he was aware that they would probably do it anyway when they saw the security footage. This way the boy – or whatever he was – would be tracked down sooner this way.

With a sigh, the Minister got to his feet and started to move towards the exit of the Ministry that would lead out into the muggle world. He didn't think that SHIELD had a Floo address, but he did know their phone number.

Harry awoke with a yawn and then rolled back over, snuggling into the soft bed of the hotel room.

 _'Wake up or you won't adjust to the time difference,'_ Loki ordered, but Harry preferred to sleep. _'Wake up or I'll make you feel like you're on fire.'_

With that, Harry was immediately getting up. He had long since learned that the god didn't bluff, but at least that event had given him some good material if he ever wanted to create an illusion involving fire.

He picked up the necklace at his bedside and put it on, staring at his new reflection in the mirror. It was simply a wooden disc engraved with runes, but Harry had been designing it for a few days before he had arrived in Russia the day prior. It was his basic disguise, so would simply change his hair to blond, his eyes to brown, obscure his scar and greatly change his other facial features. He had only finished carving it the night before, though there had been many failed prior attempts.

It would be possible to design one for an adult form, though that would take too much energy to hold up. This one was rather simple; he had to actually turn it on and off, meaning that the illusion wouldn't disperse if he were to lose focus or even fall unconscious. While the Russians might be looking for this form, it was more important that he wasn't recognized as Harry Potter.

Satisfied that it was working, Harry packed his bags before exiting the hotel and making his way across the street to eat breakfast in café.

 _'Look back across the street for me,'_ Loki ordered as Harry began to eat a few minutes later. Something in his tone made sure that he did so immediately.

Two men in black suits stood inconspicuously where Loki had directed him to look, seemingly chatting, but then a wind swept through the street and one of their jackets was blown upon, revealing a gun holstered at his side.

 _'There are more of them,_ ' Harry commented, suddenly looking at everyone else on the street in a suspicious light as he refused to let panic settle in upon him.

 _'I know, but they are muggles if they are using firearms,'_ Loki said, his tone calming. _'Unless you are shot in the head, I should be able to heal any wound. We should be safe in all cases. If the worst comes to the worst, we can try and apparate and hope that it works.'_

Harry was about to suggest leaving via the back entrance when a reflection caught his eye and he witnessed another suit-clad man heading towards his table, having entered from the said back entrance. Slipping into an arrogant and carefree demeanour with the ease of a well-practised actor, Harry casually turned to face the man, pointing at the chair opposite him as he continued to eat.

The man sat down and Harry studied him. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with receding brown hair and kind-looking grey eyes, but Harry wasn't one to be fooled by appearance. Many a person had made that mistake when they looked at him and saw a mere child.

That was a reason why Harry tended to avoid eye-contact. They said the eyes were the windows to the soul, and when people stared into his, they sometimes saw Loki. Well, not Loki, but the fact that they were staring upon an unknown being made it even more terrifying. All they sensed was that he was ancient and powerful, from which point their imagination took hold and they started to believe that Harry was the Devil himself, having come to claim their soul.

Loki immensely enjoyed that. In modern times there was no fear associated with his name, but being mistaken for a being such as Satan himself tended to boost his ego to levels yet to be discovered by mortals. With how large it was already, Harry was quite surprised that he, being raised by the god, wasn't also incredibly arrogant – that wasn't to say that he didn't know that he was far superior to the vast majority of beings in existence.

He was torn from his thoughts of Asgardian-Wizard-Jotun-Hybrid supremacy as the man said in American-accented English, "I'm Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

A jolt of surprise emitted from Loki. _'SHIELD,'_ he offered. _'The last time I was on Earth in my physical form I noted that was the organization that were investigating the appearance of Mjolnir. They are a global group and do not usually mix with the magical from what I saw.'_ Loki paused. _'They may have found you using the CCTV from the airport which would explain why they have shown up in Russia. If this is the case they probably haven't seen your wand and may believe that your power comes from sources other than magic. Act as though you do not know what it is.'_

Loki had taken a little two long to say that and silence had now reigned the table for at least five seconds. "Oh," Harry began in mock surprise, putting on a flawless Russian accent. "Were you expecting me to introduce myself?" He paused and hummed. "Do you think Vladmir Karakovsky sounds good enough?" he asked, putting together the most stereotypical Russian name he could think of. Not waiting for an answer to his clearly fake alias he continued, "Anyway, what do you want with me?"

"SHIELD – the name we usually go by – takes an interest in the Gifted, as we call them, and after your little performance at the airport yesterday, it was deemed that one with your skills would make a valuable asset. Of course, even if you don't agree to join and help SHIELD, we still need to give you a risk assessment."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That sounded a bit like a threat to me, Agent Coulson. I'm not sure if I can keep pretending to be morally superior if I join an organization that threatens children."

"Somehow, Mr Karakovsky, I do not believe that you are a child."

"Really? Now why is that?" Harry asked, making sure not to let his smugness or relief show as SHIELD drew further away from his true identity.

"I've seen the footage of you shapeshifting, and a child is the ideal form if you wish for any foes to underestimate you."

This was only getting better; they believed he was a _shapeshifter_ of all things.

"Speaking of foes, Coulson, were those your agents firing beams of light at the airport? Because I feel as though if you dispatched that many to come after _me,_ then you already have more than enough _Gifted_." Harry knew that his acting was nigh-on flawless and that he was leading them further and further from his true identity which he was sure was now safe given the fact that it had not been mentioned yet. He had momentarily panicked as he recalled the brief moment his illusion had faded, but he must have been facing away from the camera.

Coulson's pleasant smile remained as though what Harry had said hadn't changed anything at all. "No, that was a different thing altogether – something you will be informed about if you choose to become an agent of SHIELD."

Harry looked to his wrist, pretending there was a watch. He looked up in mock shock. "Whilst I would _love_ to join SHIELD, I'm afraid I'm planning on clipping my nails today."

Wrapping a barrier of silence around him to hide its distinctive noise, Harry apparated.

Blackness closed in around him and he fought back panic as his breath was snatched away. He couldn't move. Everything was pushing down on him. His very form was being distorted – and then he was back in the open, thankfully fully-intact.

He took a moment to recover from the squeezing of apparation, leaning against the wall of the alley he had appeared in. It was about halfway between where he had just been and the airport, Loki having recalled the destination.

Apparation was something that Harry preffered to never do. He didn't know whether he reacted especially badly to it, was terrible at it, or if all wizards were either massive masochists or incredibly lazy.

As Harry rested, four ear-splitting cracks rang out from nearby. Harry was instantly on his feet wand pointed at the men and women dressed in bright red cloaks. "Sir," a woman began in Russian, "you are under arrest under suspicion of unauthorized apparation. Stand down or we will be forced to use necessary force."

"Hey," one muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "Isn't that the kid fr-"

He got no further as Harry decided to open the battle. With a swipe and flick of his wand, Harry yelled, _"_ _Gelventus!"_ An icy wind whipped up behind him, surging towards the Russians. As they cast shield charms to stop their eyes from falling victim to the winds buffeting them, Harry cast another spell. _"_ _Iraex!"_ he screamed, channelling his fury into the spell that relied on emotion.

Unfortunately it seemed he wasn't exactly angry enough at the moment, for it didn't have its intended effect of causing a violent explosion of force. Instead the bolt of red light veered off to the side and smashed into the wall of the alley, sending chips of brick into the air.

Spells began to fly from the other side just as Harry cast a shield of shimmering gold Asgardian magic that the attacks harmlessly splashed against, though not without a cost, Harry noted as he noticed a large drain upon his energy. _"_ _Accio dumpster!"_ he incanted, holding the shield up with his free hand.

The barrage of spells halted as a dumpster slammed into the back of the Russian ranks.

Before they could raise any shields they found the alley filled with smoke, obscuring their view. With a shared nod, two of them apparated to the end of the alley, effectively blocking Harry's escape.

The Russians began to cast weak banishing charms into the smoke to clear it, and were unprepared as a voice murmured, _"_ _Stupefy,"_ too quietly for them to here. Whilst the low-level stunning spell was slow and blocked by any shielding charms, its target was caught off guard and crumpled to the floor as the crimson light slammed into him.

" _Infrigum Sanguo!"_ a voice called from within the smoke and Harry cursed as the Russian managed to dodge out of the light-blue blood-freezing curse's path.

The two Russians standing together's only warning of Harry's approach was a shimmer in the air before he was upon them, his golden wand glowing blue as an icicle burst from it, Harry now being at a range close enough to use his primary attack. Instantly he yelled, _"_ _Protego!"_ blocking the spell of the one who had not been impaled by the icicle attack.

With no other option, Harry called up his Asgardian magic and sent it forth in the form of a beam of glaring yellow power that ripped through both of the shields between him and his opponent, shattering both before colliding with the Russian and blasting straight through his torso

A rush of adrenaline coursed through Harry, an opposite to the fatigue that had struck him as the most powerful spell he had ever used left his wand. While his magical-development had been carefully engineered by Loki, he was still an eleven year-old, and this kind of magic was designed to be used by fully-trained Asgardian sorcerers. It had been his only option though. Otherwise he would have had his back to one wizard whilst the other could have stepped around his shield easily at his distance and did whatever he wanted.

It seemed as though he had underestimated just how much power it would take though, for he found his reserves of energy were drained and he wasn't able to throw himself out of the way of a the next spell. Instead a wave of invisible force smashed him into the wall, and he slumped to the floor, his wand barely in his grip.

" _Expelliarmus,"_ the final Russian hissed, rage for his dead friends burning in his eyes as he caught Harry's wand, the instrument of his comrades' demise. "I think I'll have some fun with you before I hand you in, child. Torture is illegal, after all. _Stupefy._ "

Harry could do nothing as darkness rushed up to claim him, drowning out the noises of the world and Loki's distressed cries alike.

 **A/N: So, a lot happened in that chapter. SHIELD has been introduced into the equation, Harry killed some Russians then got kidnapped by their angry friend, and... okay, not** ** _too_** **much happened... Anyway, tell me what you thought!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

As Harry came into consciousness, he was momentarily confused as to where he was, why he was sleeping standing up, and why there were metal cuffs around each wrist.

 _'You were captured,'_ Loki reminded rather unhelpfully.

Harry looked around. He appeared to be in a basement or some other kind of underground facility. The room's only light was provided by a candle burning dimly opposite Harry from which he deduced that he was in the house of a wizard. He released a sigh of relief. This was possibly one of the luckiest things to happen to him in years. If the man hadn't sought to torture him, he would instead be in the Russian Ministry of Magic from which escape would be far more difficult – that was if he hadn't already been executed for murder.

Cool steel bit into his wrists, the handcuffs attached to a pipe behind him and stopping him from falling to the ground. A dirty rag was in his mouth, and Harry felt a shudder of disgust run through him. He called up his magic and pushed outwards with it – and then gasped in pain. The handcuffs were somehow restraining his mortal magic. That wasn't too much of a problem, however. He had trained for such an instance.

As he had done with Loki all those years ago, he projected his mind inwards, staring upon his magical energies. The ball of gold, blue, and white writhed, attempting to escape a cage of foreign energy. The white part was all that was actually trapped, but it was clinging onto the others. With carefulness aided by Loki, Harry forced the white energy from the rest. Agony shot through him as it had when he had trained for an instance such as this, and he was suddenly glad for the gag, it muffling his scream.

That would take a while to recover from. He had effectively purged all the mortal magic from his body as though he had expended all of it at once in a battle. Luckily, Asgardian and Jotun magic would be more than enough for him to escape.

He pushed his will upon the handcuffs and ice slowly spread though them. After ten seconds or so, they were frozen to the point where Harry could pour his magic into enhancing his strength and shatter them, magically enhanced or not. He did just that, and fell into a crouch as the pieces fell to the floor, sounding like broken glass.

Tearing the rag from his mouth, he surveyed the room for his belongings before making his way up the stone stairs. At the top was a door, and when he pulled the handle it didn't budge. He cursed. Breaking it down would probably alert anyone in the building, but this was his only option. An illusion of silence wouldn't work seeing as he couldn't see the other side of the door.

Taking a few steps back, Harry charged himself on Asgardian energy, and then kicked just left of the doorknob, suddenly glad he had been left with his shoes and other clothes – another stupid move from his captor. And then he kicked the door again, and then again. On the fourth kick, the door flew open and Harry dashed from the room, freezing cold energy already surging through his veins and gathering in his palms.

A crimson spell lashed forward and Harry dived under it, rolling to his feet as it crashed against the wall behind him. Cold ecstasy coming over him as he prepared to attack, Harry thrust his hands forward. A shield of ice formed in front of him, blocking another red spell. An icicle followed his shield, blasting from Harry's grip and shattering against an opponent's shield as a panicked voice yelled a shielding charm. A _woman's_ voice.

Harry threw himself to the side, dodging a bolt of sickly yellow that came from behind him. _Why_ had he assumed that the man had lived alone?! He sprinted and skidded under a table, noticing that he appeared to be in a dining room. A banishing charm flipped his cover over after a second, but that short time gave Harry a few moments to turn and analyse his surroundings.

As he had already noticed, he was a dining room. The one who he had not recognized as a female stood near the centre of the room, though a second figure – probably the man who had captured Harry with the promise of torture – stood in the corner which had been on Harry's right as he entered the room.

When his cover was banished, Harry was already surging forward. Two colourful spells were sent flying towards him, and he ducked under both, running at the women for a moment before darting towards the man. He clearly hadn't been expecting it, but managed to put up a shield just before an icicle hit him in the chest.

What his shield didn't block, however, was Harry sliding across the ground and colliding with his feet, knocking him to the ground. Confident that the women couldn't fire any spells in fear of hitting the man, Harry engaged the man in wrestling. The wizard, untrained in hand-to-hand combat and slightly weaker than his opponent, didn't stand a chance as Harry caught his fist and squeezed it.

The man's scream of pain was cut off as Harry punched him in the nose, sending his head rebounding off of the floor with the sound of crunching bone. A scream of anguish exploded from behind him and Harry rolled to the floor as the woman shrieked out a banishing curse. The shimmer of air missing by inches, Harry was already on his feet, releasing the attack he had been charging for a few moments. The Asgardian spell rocketed forward, an orange beam of concussive energy.

Fatigue slammed into Harry as he released the spell designed for beings with much more power than him to use, but nonetheless, he didn't allow himself to lapse in his movement whatsoever, ready to charge the woman and slam a fist into her throat. That was not needed, however, as with him not having wand and not having used any other spells for the duration of the fight, the witch was woefully unprepared, only managing to erect a weak shield.

The orange magic shattered the weak barrier and slammed against the woman's stomach, joined by the magical backlash of her shield charm breaking as it picked her up and flung her backwards. A sickening crunch echoed through the room as she crashed into the wall at an angle that had probably broken her neck and fractured her skull. _Oops._

Harry turned to the man and walked over to him. The Russian was now at least partially conscious, and was reaching for his wand that was laying a few feet away. His fingers just brushed the wood before Harry's boot came stomping down upon them, prompting a scream to burst from the man's throat.

"Where's my wand?" Harry demanded in Russian. "And where am I?"

"Where's my wife?" Fear filled his tone.

Harry looked over to the woman's most likely-dead form, obscured from the man by an overturned table. "Alive," he lied, "but she won't be for long unless you tell me where the hell my wand is."

The man looked around, still trying to catch a glimpse of his apparent wife. Panic dominated his eyes, but he made an attempt to calm himself. "Do you promise not to kill either of us?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Shall I remind you that _you_ were the one who kidnapped me?"

"You killed my friends!" the man snarled.

"Yeah, it was my only option if I wanted to get out of there free, and if they were all prepared to torture a child as you were – not that you've managed to – they deserved it. And it was only because you tried to arrest me for a law I didn't know existed!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, I promise not to kill you."

The man relaxed. "It's in my left trouser pocket."

Now that Harry looked properly, he could see the white leather of the handle protruding from the said pocket. He leant down and retrieved it with a muttered thanks.

And then he blasted an icicle through the man's neck. That had been one of Loki's first lessons: when you make promises you aren't going to keep, make sure that no one finds out.

Harry had found the remainder of his belongings in the fireplace, apparently already having been used as firewood. Luckily his captors hadn't thought to search him, so he still had his disguise necklace. Other than his wand – which he now had – all of his other possessions could be bought easily, so he didn't mind the loss of those too much. He would just have to obtain some money which never proved to be too difficult an affair.

Before he did that, however, his priority was to get out of Moscow, and it would probably be best if he left Russia entirely. It had been an absolutely terrible idea to go there in the first place, and keeping under the radar would undoubtedly be much more difficult with both SHIELD and the Russian Ministry of Magic on the lookout for him – well, his disguise, but it was the same thing.

Since he had arrived on a plane from England, it was likely that they might looking for him there as well, especially since he had spoke English to Coulson, albeit in a perfect Russian accent. As far as the Russian's were concerned, they knew that he spoke perfect Russian and didn't know about anything else, so it would probably be best to avoid Russian-speaking regions.

Seeing as SHIELD focused on North America, that was also ruled out. An illusion that changed skin colour would be substantially more difficult to sustain for long periods of time than his current one was, so most of Africa, South America, and Asia were ruled off if he didn't want to end up sticking out like a sore thumb.

That left Harry with the options of some European countries, Oceania…and Antartica…. Whilst he would be perfectly comfortable in the latter's environment, he would also be rather easy to find as a child in a place with a population with a maximum of 5,000. Well, that or he would have to survive off eating penguins.

He and Loki were both leaning towards Europe, its much larger magical population making it far easier to blend in and obtain any needed supplies. Then it just came down to which country to go to. Eventually, after much discussion and arguing, Harry decided to go against Loki's judgement and use a completely foolproof and totally not cliché method to choose where to go: throwing darts at a map.

Unfortunately Loki's training had not extended to dart-throwing, or any other throwing methods for that matter, but Harry managed to hit Europe on his fifth try. Further observation revealed that it had landed upon Italy. So Italy it was.

So Harry took a cab to the nearest airport outside of Moscow where he was fairly sure there would be less – if any – wizarding defences at than in the capital city. His thoughts proved true, and after a few hours of waiting, he was on a plane to Rome.

After arriving he slipped through the airport's security, this time not even going through Customs and Immigration in fear of Italy having a magical protection similar to Russia. Escaping a toilet window, he made his way out over the runways, taking care not to be ran over by a plane before climbing over a fence. A taxi later, Harry was in the city, magicking his way through a hotel's reception with mental commands seeing as he didn't speak Italian yet. He had began to learn on the flight, but it would probably take a week or so locked up in his hotel room until Loki was able to fully engrave the language in his mind via AllSpeak.

When he had learned the language, he would begin to gain his money back again and continue on his quest for power. He had a feeling that by the end of his stay in Italy, however long it might be, his crimes wouldn't be limited to illegal immigration.

 **A/N: So Harry has already decided Russia was a bad idea. Anyway, tell me what you thought, all feedback is welcome!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Harry dashed down Orrizo Alley – essentially a more modern-looking Italian equivalent of Diagon Alley – weaving between people as someone behind him yelled, "Get him!"

After finding the exchange rate between muggle money and magic money in Italy to be rather ridiculous, Harry had decided to attempt to steal from a wizard instead of a muggle for once – _attempt_ being the key word. In his moment of sloppiness he hadn't taken anti-theft charms into account, and now he was being forced to pay for it.

He had wisely decided not to initiate combat with his pursuer seeing as there had happened to be magical policemen or whatever they were called nearby. The crowds in the street might have also sided against an apparent pickpocket, so Harry wasn't going to take that risk. Ending up in the custody of the Italian Ministry after just over a week in the country was most certainly not his plan.

Turning slightly, he saw that the man he had stolen from was leading the chase with the magical authorities twenty metres or so behind him. As a crowd of people ambling towards him momentarily blocked them from his view, Harry acted with great speed. His already unfastened cloak fell from his shoulders and he ducked into an alleyway, raising his wand and sending his cloak a few further metres down the street with a silent banishing charm.

He had timed it perfectly, and there was a child only slightly shorter than him running down the street a slight distance in front of his cloak's position. As planned, the authorities continued chasing the child who was far slower than Harry, though they didn't seem to notice.

 _'Aren't I great, Loki? An illusion without an illusion,'_ Harry said, his tone full of fake arrogance.

The god snorted. _'I would have just used an illusion as soon as they started chasing me, but then again, I wouldn't have been caught in the first place.'_

 _'Yeah, yeah. No one can_ ever _be as great as you.'_ Harry rolled his eyes as he spoke, his tone mocking.

"Nice trick, kid," a voice behind him suddenly said in Italian, and Harry span, raising his wand as he did so.

He was going to fire a spell at the man, but something about his demeanour made him hesitate. He held himself with a casual arrogance and a grin upon his face, appearing to be in his early twenties with tanned skin, black hair, and bright blue eyes. To Harry's surprise, he was wearing a black muggle suit without a tie. Whilst the dressing habits of Italian wizards weren't as weird as those in England from what he had seen, there was usually _something_ that distinguished them from muggles. If it weren't for the slim stick of black wood hanging lazily from the man's left hand Harry wouldn't have known he was a wizard.

The man looked down to Harry's wand and chuckled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Whilst Harry usually wouldn't hesitate to blast an icicle through someone, this man had a certain air of danger that made him hesitate. There was also the fact that Loki's enhanced senses had just picked up a noise a few meters from him. Lowering his wand to a height where he could still have it up in a moment, Harry glanced to his right, the tell-tale shimmer of a disillusionment charm confirming the presence of a second person.

"Good eyes too," the first man murmured. "Say kid, how would you like to earn a little money?"

"Sorry, but I think my parents would be disappointed if I became a prostitute, but they're dead, so that depends how much you're paying." While his tone might have been joking, Harry was still figuring out the best path of escape if this situation were to turn sour.

The man laughed. "I'm afraid you're too young for me, kid. One of your talents could earn quite a bit working for us. We could teach you how to _not_ get caught in the first place."

Both Harry's and Loki's curiosity peaked. "And who is exactly is _us?"_

The man looked confused for a moment, but then his expression smoothed over. "Not from around these parts I take it?" Harry nodded. "Well we" – he pointed to where the previously almost invisible person had formed into a well-muscled man – "are members of an organization commonly known as the magical counterpart of the Mafia – unless anyone asks, of course. You can tell people if you like, but whose gonna believe a kid?"

A jolt of shock shot through Harry, but Loki didn't seem very surprised. _'There is magic, and there are criminals. Is it not inevitable that there would be magical criminal_ _s_ _? And I suppose organizations with as many members as the Mafia are bound to have a foot in both worlds. Gaining friends in a group such as them could gain you access to resources we otherwise wouldn't be able to obtain as well as allies.'_

Harry gave it a moment of thought before agreeing with him. "So, what would I be doing?"

The apparent Mafia member grinned, happy that he had agreed so rapidly. "Well, nobody ever expects a child. We could just use one of our own kids or something, but they're at school, and frankly not skilled enough-"

"And what makes you think _I'm_ skilled enough?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "You were running faster than fully-grown men, and then managed to take off your cloak and frame another boy in the space of a few seconds. You turned around with a trained wizard's reflexes when I spoke, and from the way you were pointing it at me, I have a feeling you actually know how to use your wand. You then proceeded to somehow detect someone under a disillusionment charm. I'm fairly sure that the average-"

"Eleven year-old," Harry helpfully supplied.

"-is unable to do that."

Harry hummed. "I suppose you do have a point. I come off as rather great even if you haven't seen me in combat."

The man raised a condescending eyebrow, severely doubting the claim. "As I was going to say before you interrupted, you'll be doing a variety of things. Robberies, break-ins, whatever. No one ever expects it was the child, and from what I've seen you're pretty good at getting away unnoticed. You'll be paid a cut of each job." He paused, as though trying to recall if there was anything else he wanted to say. "So, do we have a deal?" he asked, extending his hand.

Harry reached out to shook it, and grinned. "Sure, but if you try to rip me off, you're going to die."

For a moment the man was stunned into silence, but then he blinked out of his shock and his grin grew even wider. "I like you already, kid."

Whatever doubts Harry might have had about joining a criminal organization were greatly outweighed by the potential benefits.

After arranging to meet the next day, by which time Marco, whose name Harry had learned after introducing himself as Harry Rossi, would hopefully have a mission, they had split up. Harry knew that there were far easier ways to get money, but he was doing this mainly for contacts and resources. Whatever his future plans were, he would likely need both at some point.

He had slightly regretted telling Marco that he was named Harry, but there was next to no way that the man would make the connection between the apparently blond-haired "Harry Rossi" and the black-haired Harry Potter who had a distinctive scar upon his forehead. Well, Harry hoped that he wouldn't.

As he normally did, Harry had spent the night practising magic after leaving the alley. He didn't want to reveal his wandless and worldess magic until it was absolutely necessary, so he would have to use his wand the whole time. That might not prove to be _too_ much of a problem. There were, after all, plenty of ice-based spells that he could enhance with his Jotun magic.

Whilst he didn't want to display _all_ his power, he still wanted to impress them, just not with anything that even the best wizards were incapable of.

When mid-day came around on the day of the meeting, Harry arrived at the café to find Marco already there, the brutish bodyguard from yesterday next to him. Upon further inspection, three other tables had a man on, all of them attempting to be discreet as they looked at Harry and Marco.

"Just my bodyguards," Marco assured him. "My father insists upon me bringing unnecessary amounts of force for any mission."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He was beginning to get the sense that Marco was further up in the organization than he had previously guessed. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked.

Marco smiled. "Well there was a reason why I was looking for a child specifically yesterday." He produced a manilla folder from his suit jacket and placed it upon the table, opening it to reveal a moving picture of a fat man with quite the resemblance to Vernon Dursley. "Quite simply, we need to _apprehend_ this man, and public warfare is not our way. Fortunately for us, he has a, _ahem,_ fondness for children and you are going to lure him and his guards into a pre-determined location where we will have already set up silencing wards."

Harry simply nodded, taking the fact that he was being used as bait for a paedophile in his stride with ease. It wasn't exactly as though he hadn't been in worse situations before, it was just that he didn't get in them on purpose.

"Okay." He needed no more information, to do the job, other than knowledge of how much he would get paid. "The money?" he asked.

Marco raised a bag of golden coins from his pocket and it jingled when he shook it. Harry reached for it, but it was moved out of his range. "Afterwards," Marco assured him. "What you said about killing me if I betrayed you goes both ways."

Harry frowned but nodded. If he was Marco, he certainly wouldn't trust a child he had met yesterday enough to have him carry out a mission, let alone give him the money beforehand. He wasn't in the business of underestimating people, and he didn't doubt that the Mafia didn't actually trust him, they just thought that they could kill him with ease – they were wrong.

Marco stood, offering his arm. Harry grabbed it and they disappeared with a crack to the, the others following moments later. Blackness closed in around Harry and for a moment he was squeezed, but it was nowhere near as bad as apparation normally was for him. Well then, either Marco was very good at it, or he was absolutely terrible. He glanced around the location at which he had arrived.

From the directions he had been previously supplied, they were in an Italian equivalent of Knockturn alley, suspicious looking stores all around. With nods and muttered incantations, all the men became shimmers in the air, and Harry walked forward, the others disappearing from sight completely a moment later.

Turning his eyes downwards, he twisted his expression to one of timid fear as he walked past the building outside of which his target currently was, eating at a table with about six other men.

"Hey, kid!" one called, but Harry kept moving with only a glance backwards. "I'm talking to you!"

As someone began an incantation of what sounded to be a stunning spell, Harry dodged to the left and broke out into a sprint, the noise of swearing and chairs clattering to the floor sounding behind him, making him conceal a smirk. It hadn't been guaranteed that they would follow someone who ran, but he supposed that they almost never got lone children around these parts and that it was too great an opportunity to miss.

Rounding the corner, he slowed down a bit, gasping as though he was out of breath. At his full speed, he would probably leave them behind after a short time, and that would be inconvenient. As the men came around the same corner he just had, they seemed to hesitate, but Harry's boss barked out an order that too much spellfire would gain attention and to keep on pursuing the child on foot.

So Harry kept on running, going around one bend and then another, finally reaching a dilapidated courtyard with no path of escape.

Fear in his eyes, Harry backed up to the wall as the men jogged around the corner, his target leading with the others behind him, wands in hand.

"Well, well, well," began the target. "I-"

He got no further as spells began to rain down upon him and his men from the first floor windows of a house on one side of the courtyard. Instantly they had put up shield charms, but those, unfortunately for them, didn't stop the barrage of curses that began to explode from the other buildings, wizards bursting out from behind cover and into the courtyard.

In an instant the group's ranks were reduced to two people, and those fell a moment later, slammed against a wall by an overpowered banishing charm. Marco dropped from one of the windows, cushioning his fall before walking over to Harry and tossing him the bag of money.

"Good job, kid. I hope to-"

He was interrupted as Harry knocked him aside with a flick of his wand, sending him flying out of the path of a green spell as a wizard on the floor hissed, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

The man didn't have time to utter another incantation as a cutting curse from Harry met his throat.

Marco looked slightly stunned for a moment, but then turned to Harry with a grin. "As I was saying, I hope to work together again, and I think you've earned yourself another bag of gold."

 **A/N: Tell me what you thought! This storyline might be a bit random, but I know where it's going.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Harry whistled merrily as he entered the shop, bells jingling overhead as the door was opened. For what must've been the thousandth time that week, Loki sighed. _'Can you_ please _stop whistling?'_

 _'Nope, I'm trying to get in the Christmas spirit.'_

Loki snorted. _'You're not a Christian and you have a Norse god living inside your head.'_

 _'If you can die, you're not_ really _a god.'_

 _'I wish I hadn't told you that.'_ Loki sighed once again. _'Compared to humans, I am a god. Is that good enough for you?'_

 _'I could argue that compared to humans,_ I'm _a god.'_.

 _'You_ could _argue, but you would be arguing against me and would therefore lose, seeing as compared to you, I am a god.'_ Loki's tone held nothing but confidence, and Harry had no doubt that he would lose any argument against the silver-tongued, millennia old trickster – not that it stopped him from trying, of course.

 _'Well if you're a god, why can't you stop me whistling?'_ he asked, though he already knew the answer. He just enjoyed mocking Loki.

 _'We both know fully well that I_ could _stop you, I just don't want to cause you to have a seizure.'_

After being in Italy for over a year, Harry had picked up quite a bit concerning Occulumency, helped by Loki's expertise at the mental arts. Since Harry had wanted to keep Loki's presence close, seeing as he needed him for guidance and channelling Asgardian spells, he needed to keep Loki within his barriers. This meant that whilst Loki could now read his thoughts to a level he couldn't before, he was effectively within Harry's domain, thus having less control over him and his annoying whistling habit.

Loki, being as skilled as he was, could definitely stop Harry if he wanted to, though the required effort would annoy him more than the whistling did and would leave Harry in immense pain, unable to defend himself against any exterior threats. Suffice to say, Loki didn't care enough about Harry's "Christmas Spirit" to stop him.

Still whistling Harry moved up to the counter of the shop and looked around. He hummed thoughtfully. "I want the….um, let me think. Oh yeah, the protection money please."

The shopkeeper jumped slightly, clearly surprised as his hand crept for his wand. "What are you? Eleven? I ain't giving money to a-"

He was interrupted as Harry muttered, _"_ I'm twelve _actually,_ and _Expelliarmus,"_ and sent him flying into the shelves behind him. Switching his whistling into humming, Harry vaulted over the counter and blasted the lock off of a drawer, standing on the groaning shopkeeper as he rooted through the money, taking a little extra as reparations for the additional effort the man had caused by resisting.

Hopping back over the counter, he exited the store with a jovial, "Goodbye, and Merry Christmas! Be sure to pay next month if you want to keep selling dark artefacts without the authorities breathing down your neck and your legs broken!"

He strolled down the alley confidently, his wand firmly in his hand. While a child was usually an easy target, this being very near Orrizo Alley, the Italian equivalent of Diagon Alley, he was probably safe. If someone _did_ choose to attack him, however, things weren't going to turn out well for them.

Arriving in Orrizo Alley he moved along it, wishing that anti-apparation charms weren't in place within it, even though he was actually terrible at apparation. Then again, that was one of the main reasons he rented a place here. The charms over the alley were far more powerful than anything he could put up himself, so there was no chance of surprising him by suddenly apparating in. Other wards were in place at his apartment building as well, and whilst they weren't exactly strong, they would hold back any unwanted intruders for long enough for Harry to escape.

He had been offered a room at Marco's parents' manor, but he enjoyed his privacy and didn't think that a house shared with dozens of guards and staff would offer that.

Just as Harry was entering the lobby of his building a fireplace flared with green flames and out stepped Marco, brushing soot off the shoulders of the expensive-looking black cloak he wore on top of his suit. His blue eyes scanned around for a moment before he picked out Harry and walked over to him.

The man chucked a bag of golden coins at him and Harry caught it easily, raising an eyebrow at its weight. "Christmas bonus," supplied Marco.

"Really? What did I do to earn this?" He frowned mockingly. "I haven't saved your life in _at least_ a month."

 _'33 days,'_ Loki reminded.

Marco laughed. "I would have survived anyway, just wouldn't have been able to use my arm for a few days – and let's not forget all the times I've saved your behind."

"Whatever." Marco reached to try and ruffle Harry's hair, but he dodged out the way. "You could have waited a few days to give me that, what do you want?"

As if to deny it, Marco opened his mouth and then re-thought, abruptly closing it again. By this point he knew that Harry was rather adept at detecting lies. "I need you to do something for me on Christmas Eve. My family is hosting a ball for Yule, and I need you to come."

For a moment Harry was silent. "Marco, as I told you when we first met, I'm not a prostitute unless you pay me a lot."

He laughed. "You misunderstand." He paused. "Actually you understand quite well, but it is not me you shall be escorting, it is my sister."

"Wow," Harry murmured. "I've seen your sister, and I'm pretty sure she isn't ugly enough that you need to _pay_ someone to take her as a date." In all honesty, Marco's sister was attractive, but Loki had informed Harry you weren't supposed to tell girl's brothers that unless you were trying to annoy them.

"I'm paying you to be her bodyguard, not her date." Marco sounded exasperated, used to Harry purposefully misinterpreting anything he said in order to annoy him. "She's thirteen, and you're the only person within her age range who I trust to guard her."

"And why exactly does she need guarding?"

Marco bit down on his lip, and Harry guessed that he was wondering whether or not to tell him something. "Recently, there have been betrayals within the organization. Previously loyal members and families are turning away from my father's leadership and to our rivals. Many will be at this ball, members and non-members alike. When even our allies cannot be trusted, members of my family undoubtedly in danger. Unlike the rest of us, my sister is unable to protect herself as well, but it will be a sign of weakness if she does not attend."

Harry thought for a moment, weighing up the risks and the undoubtedly large prize. It wasn't like he had any plans for Christmas anyway. "I'll do it."

"I knew I could count on you," said Marco, smiling. "The dress code is formal, so you can wear a robe over a suit. We'll be wearing black, so you probably should too."

A snort escaped Harry. "When I'm forced to wear a robe, do you really think that it would be anything _other_ than black?"

"Anyway, show up at the manor at 5:00pm on Christmas, and no funny business with my sister, her brother is in the Mafia." With a wink, he swaggered back over to the Floo and disappeared in a burst of green fire.

As a result of Loki's prior insistence, Harry already owned an expensive – _too_ expensive, in his opinion – black suit with a matching robe. Harry would have preferred a cape (they restricted movement less, and more importantly, looked cooler) but he didn't want to gain unneeded attention by being dressed differently to everyone else.

So dressed in his suit and robe with one dagger holstered at his left ankle, another under his suit blazer and his wand sheathed in his sleeve, Harry moved downstairs to the lobby, locking his apartment behind him. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder and hurling it into the fire, he said, "Aurelius Manor," and was enveloped in green flames.

The world blackened and then he was rushing through darkness, lights glimmering around him. Suddenly he was thrown out of his destination's fireplace. For a moment he tumbled before regaining his footing with near inhuman grace.

Even though he had been keyed into the wards, a barrier of shimmering light still held him back from entering the rest of the manor's grand entry hall. Two robed men stood opposite from him, but neither moved to unleash him from the secondary ward. Harry sighed, wondering how funny their reactions would be if he decided to blast it down. It had not been designed to withstand Asgardian magic.

He was ripped from his contemplations as Marco came through the doors at the end of the room that Harry knew led further into the house. He motioned to the men and one pointed his wand at a glowing, blue crystal next to him, taking down the ward for just long enough for Harry to step into the house.

"Ah, Harry." Marco looked down to the gleaming golden watch upon his wrist. "You are exactly on time."

"Did you expect anything else?" Harry moved up to Marco and matched his pace as they strode though the manor. "How long until the other guests arrive?"

"Half an hour," he answered, "I-" He paused, looking to Harry with slight worry in his eyes. "You do know how to dance, right?"

Harry nodded. Whilst it wasn't technically true, Loki knew how to dance, and Harry could simply channel the god through himself. Well, it wasn't exactly simple, thus why he didn't use it to learn how to fight. With Loki's help he could do it subconsciously, not having to concentrate on it, but it would also make it impossible for him to do any magic. Not being able to simultaneously use a blade and magic was bad. Not being able to dance and do magic? Not so much.

"Don't tell me that's why you made me come half an hour early, to ask me if I knew how to dance? What were you going to do if I didn't know how to dance, try and see if you could teach me in half an hour?"

Marco rolled his eyes. "Of course not, I made you come early to ensure all was in order." He paused briefly. "And to the latter, I really have no idea."

A snort escaped Harry. "So, what's my cover?"

"You're a son of a wealthy associate from America-"

"Can I be Russian?" Harry interrupted. Marco raised an eyebrow. "I can do the accent really well," he supplied.

Marco appeared sceptical, but said, "Sure."

"Anyway, what does your sister know? Am I a guard or a mysterious Russian _vampire prince,_ come to-"

Marco shot him a glare that reduced that the rest of his sentence to sniggers. "A guard, and can you _actually_ do a Russian accent, or are you just going to look like an idiot?"

Harry looked slightly appalled. "Marco, how _dare_ you doubt me?" he said, slightly channelling his limited AllSpeak ability into a Russian accent.

Marco looked slightly impressed. "Okay, good enough. Also, don't piss my sister off. Her word has good standing with our father, and if you can impress her, it could result in promotion."

"What exactly is a promotion? Do I get to extort higher-end stores?"

With a shrug, Marco said, "We'll see."

They were now nearing the next set of doors, and Harry allowed himself to relax, mentally making sure that he was prepared. Somehow, he still felt that having to dance was more of a threat than assassination attempts.

 _'My host's first contact with someone his age in six years, and a_ girl _at that.'_ A mocking sigh escaped Loki. _'They grow up so fast.'_

 **A/N: So not too much happened, but tell me what you thought. And yes, his name is Marco Aurelius, because why not? As the saying goes, when in Rome, give your characters Roman-esque names...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Face smoothed over and emotionless, Harry entered the room after Marco. Among the various staff and guards moving around the room were the rest of Marco's family: Lord Aurelius, Lady Aurelius, and their daughter, Maria Aurelius. Marco and Maria seemed to both take after their father, all sharing jet black hair, tanned skin, and bright blue eyes. Lady Aurelius on the other hand had blonde hair, and with her beauty, Harry wouldn't be surprised if one of her ancestors was a Veela.

With Marco leading, Harry walked up to them. Immediately three sets of eyes were scanning over him in a way he found slightly unnerving.

"So, this is him?" asked Lord Aurelius, to which Marco nodded. His expression grew pensive. "You trust him?"

"With my life," confirmed Marco, "and with Maria's." The girl rolled her eyes, though no others seemed to notice.

Marco's father nodded. "Very well, we'll leave you two to socialize," he said, looking to Harry and Maria before walking off with his wife, Marco trailing behind. Maria and Harry awkwardly sat down at a table, facing each other with the latter silently cursing Marco for putting him in this situation and ignoring Loki's reminders of him putting himself in it,

"So, you're Harry?"

"Yes, and you're Maria."

She looked over him. "What magic school do you go to? I'm in my third year at Beauxbatons."

Harry shook his head. "There's nothing useful I can learn there, so I don't go." Maria looked incredulous, so he added, "I do have a tutor however. I have no doubt that at the height of his power he would be able to beat almost any wizard in the world."

 _'Almost?'_ Loki questioned. _'Should I be offended, Harry?'_

 _'Shut up. If I big you up any more, it's going to sound like my mentor is bloody Dumbledore.'_

"And what's his name?" Maria asked.

He grinned. "I'm afraid that's highly confidential."

Maria reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to tell me?"

 _'Um, Loki, is she trying to do some crappy wandless magic or something?'_

The god snorted. _'Nope, just trying to manipulate you. She is absolutely terrible at it, but I suppose it usually doesn't take much to fool a hormonal teenager.'_

 _'Hey! I'm not hormonal!'_

 _'I live inside your head, and always see what you look at and what you do.'_ Harry made to speak, but Loki interrupted, _'Always.'_

Harry was silent for a moment. _'Good point, but I'm twelve so I'm therefore not a hormonal teenager.'_ To that, Loki only snorted.

"I'm fine actually," Harry said, taking great joy from the brief disappointment that flashed across her face.

 _'If only you weren't under an illusion, we could have some fun with this,'_ Loki muttered.

 _'What do you mean?'_

 _'Well, I need to teach you seduction at some point, and who better to practise with than a rich heiress with a lot of influence? This form is nothing special, but your true appearance is incredibly attractive, being modelled after me, of course.'_

 _'Oh, Loki, teach me how to be as humble as you,'_ Harry mocked _. 'Why are you such an_ expert _at seduction anyway?'_

 _'It all comes with the role of being a master of illusion. Seduction – whether by lust, power, or gold – can get you a lot of things, and let me tell you, it is truly a wonderful feeling to have people like putty in your hands. You can have them grovel at your feet, or you can_ spit _on their affections and rip their emotions apart. To have such power over someone is a feeling of true domination that only few get to experience, and under my guidance, you will be one of them.'_

For a moment, Harry was silent. _'Uh, Loki, that's kind of weird.'_

He sensed the god give a mental shrug. _'I tend to get carried away when talking about world domination….'_

 _'Or how stupid humans are,'_ Harry added. _'Or capes, or spears, or-'_

 _'Yes, I understand what you're getting at, now you should probably talk to the mortal, you have both been silent for a few moments.'_

Harry snapped back into reality and found that he had been staring at Maria, and that she had been staring at him. This evening was either going to be very boring, or someone would try to attack them. He wasn't really sure which one he preferred.

 _'It could be worse,'_ Loki reminded him. _'At least she's attractive – by mortal standards anyway. Befriend her now and reap the benefits when you're older.'_

 _'I can't "befriend" her if you keep talking to me, can I?'_

"Anyway," Harry began. "If anyone asks I'm an associate from Russia named Harry Kamisky." He wasn't very good at making up names,

"Can you do a Russian accent, or are you just going to look like an idiot?"

Harry winked, saying in his Russian accent, "Funny, your brother said exactly the same thing."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "That's actually quite good. So how do you know Marco?"

Harry's expression remained flat as he deadpanned, "Take a guess."

"The family business," she said, and Harry nodded in confirmation. She looked over Harry. "A little young, aren't you? I'm not sure that I need some pickpocket whose never been to a magic school and has an imaginary tutor protecting me."

He snorted. "If I was incapable, I wouldn't have been chosen to guard you. There's a reason I don't go to magic school. Like I already said, they have nothing useful to teach me. I have full confidence that there isn't a single person in any magical academy in the world that can beat me." Well, if he had the element of surprise, but it sounded better if he didn't say that.

"A bold claim," she said, "but can you prove it?"

"If you're suggesting that we duel, Miss Aurelius, I'm afraid we will have to wait until after the ball," Harry said with a smirk. "After all, I don't want to ruin your dress, or your face for that matter."

She matched his expression. "I think you'd find it to be the other way around, Harry."

"Sorry, but I'm not wearing a dress, though I'm flattered that you think my face is good enough to be ruined."

After a while more of talking, Harry was managing to chip further and further away at her cold exterior. He supposed it was understandable that she would be hostile when she was forced to be taken to the ball and guarded by someone younger than her who she didn't know, denying her the chance to have someone else as a date. Harry's illusionary form was completely average – not unattractive, not attractive, just average – for it was designed to blend in. Maria on the other hand, _was_ attractive, and that might have been another factor in her annoyance. He didn't really care as long as he got paid.

Before long they moved into the mansion's ballroom where guests had already began to arrive. Harry hung back slightly as Maria mingled with the new arrivals, avoiding notice but ready to leap into action at the first glance of a wand.

Soon they moved over to tables to eat. Harry ended up next to Maria, though played dumb when anyone spoke to him, replying in a heavy accent with his Italian completely fractured.

This did, however, give him the opportunity to listen in upon Maria's school friends with them not knowing he was listening. There was a blonde girl and a brown-haired boy who was apparently her date. They both attended Beauxbatons with Maria, the boy was French and called Jean, whilst the girl was the daughter of one of Lord Aurelius' "friends" and was named Julia. Harry noted that she was attractive, though not as much as Maria.

 _'Making important observations, I see,'_ Loki commented.

 _'It isn't as though there is really much else I can do, and you'll tell me when you see any assassins.'_ Harry paused, and flashed a mental smirk in Loki's direction. _'Anyway, you can't blame me; I am, after all, a hormonal teenager.'_

Loki groaned, and Harry refocused on reality as Maria turned to him for the first time in a few minutes. She got to her feet with a smirk and asked, "Would you like to dance?"

If this was her attempt at embarrassing him, it would fail. Allowing Loki's knowledge and supernatural grace to be channelled through his mind, Harry rose to his feet, accepting her hand with a matching smirk before leading her out onto the dance floor, into the twirling couples.

Harry found his movements not to be his own, unnaturally elegant and light as he moved flawlessly, leading Maria to the music with a hand on her hip and another holding her hand. Needless to say, if anyone was getting embarrassed, it was her.

When the song ended they moved back over to their table, Maria slightly gasping for breath and sweating whilst Harry looked as if he had taken a casual stroll. After seeing his performance, Julia had to ask him to dance as well. After a brief moment he grudgingly accepted upon Maria's insistence and promise that she would stay there. Who would be stupid enough to leave anyway?

Nonetheless, he kept his eyes on Maria. This was possibly a better position to observe from anyway; his turns allowed him to look in all directions for any possible assailants. As he turned once again, he swore; Maria was gone.

Loki was immediately on alert. _'Jean's eyes are on the exit on his left. Go!'_

Releasing Julia, Harry dashed forward, keeping Loki's Asgardian agility as he wove through the crowd of dancers. He moved out of the door and caught sight of the tail of a black dress moving around the next corner. She was going of her own free will, then. That decreased the risk of the situation, but not to zero. She really _was_ an imbecile.

As Harry moved forward, wand in hand, Loki spoke, _'Don't panic, but the sounds ahead of you have just halted.'_

 _'Silencing ward?'_

 _'That is the most likely situation, but I cannot be sure.'_

Harry began to sprint again, cursing as he laid eyes upon the corridor. Blood was sprayed over the wall and two bodies were strewn on the floor, one slumped against the wall. The sound of yelling filled his ears, frequently interrupted by female screams, and then Maria's cries were muted. A window shattered and Harry swore once again. They were in the first door on his right.

A second later he had followed them in, already raising his wand. One man remained in the room but he was already halfway out of the window. His progress was increased dramatically as Harry's silent banishing curse collided with his backside and sent him flying forwards. He was already sprinting forward and leaping through as the man flew through the window at neck-breaking speeds.

Upon exiting, Harry was immediately scanning for there others. Three men were on the lawn, one of them levitating Maria as they moved for where Harry knew the ward line was. One of them had began to turn as his friend had impacted the floor, but he was not fast enough. " _Hasglacus,"_ hissed Harry, and a spear of ice burst from his wand before impaling the man through the chest.

The others span, one barking for the other to keep going as he created a shield that blocked a blasting curse from Harry.

" _Gelventus,"_ Harry incanted, sending forth an icy wind that surged around the edges of the spell and obscured his opponent's vision for a few seconds, but that was all he needed. He dashed forward, sliding to the ground and taking advantage of the slight gap under the man's shield as he uttered a curse that was almost certainly a death sentence: " _Infrigum Sanguo!"_

A bolt of blue light moved forward, slower than the average spell, but far more deadly. With his vision obscured, the spell was just another ice chip spinning through the man's vision. This, however, was far more deadly.

A scream ripped from the man's throat as it connected with his ankle, and his shield shattered as he dropped his wand so that he could grasp at his wounded limb. That would not save him. If he didn't amputate the foot, the curse would continue to spread through his body, turning his blood to ice. That, however, was not on Harry's mind as he dashed forward, not daring use a spell in fear of hitting Maria, who the man was now holding on his back as a form of human shield. She seemed to be knocked out, and hitting a victim of a stunning spell with any magic could possibly kill them or damage their brain if you weren't aware of the spell upon them.

As a test, Harry sent a spell veering wide of them. It hit an invisible wall a few dozen meters in front of them, turning it shimmering blue. The wards.

Magic poured into Harry legs and he surged forward even faster. If he allowed them to get to the wards, they would be gone. Luckily, the man was slowed down by carrying someone, and Harry had momentarily enhanced himself to superhuman speeds. Unluckily, that might not be fast enough.

Harry sent a blasting curse that didn't harm living beings at the ground under him and he was sent soaring through the air, flipping over the man. He barely had time to widen his eyes in horror – let alone raise his wand – before Harry slashed his own across his throat, spraying blood high into the air. Anyone hope of living was absolutely obliterated as Harry drove his blood-stained wand through the man's left eye.

Maria, still unconscious followed the man to the floor, and Harry ran a diagnostic charm, sighing in relief when he noticed that she was a victim of a simple stunning spell. " _Enervate,"_ he muttered.

The girl blinked as she awoke, her blue eyes widening as she took in her surroundings.

Harry grinned. "Hey-"

He was cut off as a man's voice bellowed, " _Scorcus!"_

Not having the time to create a shield, Harry could only throw himself backwards onto the ground. A flash of agony shot through him as the cutting curse bit through his robes and into the side of his neck even as he returned fire with an overpowered blasting charm into the man's throat. Blood, both his and his opponents, sprayed over him, and he hissed in pain, pressing a hand to his neck as Loki began to heal it.

Neither of them had noticed the final man approach from beyond the wards. He must have been waiting outside to make sure that nothing went wrong. Well, he hadn't been very good at that.

An icy coldness washed away the pain as Loki numbed it, and Harry turned back to Maria, who was laying on the floor a few feet from him and staring at him in shock. He grinned. "Incapable, eh?"

She still did not respond as Harry rose to his knees, checking his wound and seeing that the minor cut had already been healed. "I'm going to have to bloody carry you, am I?" he grumbled, seeing a brief flash of pain cross her face as she cast a glance down at her ankle. And then she was staring at his face once again. He sighed. He didn't know whether or not her apparent obsession with him was a good thing.

Nonetheless, he got to his feet and moved over, scooping her up so that she was essentially sitting on his left arm and had his right arm free to blast any other attackers. Maria still looked to be in shock, and he had began to wonder whether they had accidentally smashed her head on the window frame when they were kidnapping her. Or it might have been the corpses strewn over her lawn and the fact both of them were covered in blood.

With a sigh, Harry began to carry back towards the house. And then something even more unexpected than the final attack happened. "You're Harry Potter," she said, speaking for the first time.

A curse escaped Harry's mouth as he turned back to where they had been a few moments ago. Among the blood and grass lay his disguise necklace, the lace severed by the cutting curse. He groaned, walking back over and picking it up, still holding Maria. "So you're constantly staring at me now I'm famous, handsome, and have saved your life? That is like, _so_ shallow!" he mocked, then suddenly turned serious. "Tell anyone about this and you die, okay?"

She nodded then hugged tighter into his side, causing Harry to glance at her as he repaired the necklace and put it back on.

 _'She's very subtle about showing her newly-found attraction to you,'_ Loki idly commented, his tone thick with sarcasm.

In his blood-soaked state, Harry decided it would be best if he didn't go back into the ballroom, instead going directly into the room they had been in before. He was greeted by the sight of the three other members of the Aurelius family and a few guards rushing about.

"I assume you already found the guards in the corridor. There are five corpses of the would-be kidnappers on the lawn. I didn't exactly have time to interrogate them," Harry said casually, drawing everyone's attention onto him. For a moment, the room was silent. "Is anyone going to take her from me, or shall I just stand here holding her?"

 **A/N: I guess that chapter was kinda long, so that's why it is being uploaded 5 minutes late. Anyway, tell me what you thought!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Maria made the wise decision not to attend the rest of the dance. She probably wouldn't have had the choice to anyway with her family interrogating her about why she had left the room and lecturing that it wasn't responsible to go to the bathroom without your bodyguard accompanying you.

Harry simply settled on a couch and watched in amusement. After a while Marco joined him. "Good job," he said. "I expected nothing less from you." Reaching into his pocket he procured a bag of gold and chucked it to Harry who snatched it out of the air and pocketed it, noting it was far heavier than anything else Marco had given him. The expansion charms on it didn't do weight as well, then. "Would you consider-"

"No," Harry interrupted, giving him no room to continue.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Let me guess: would you consider becoming Maria's full-time guard?" Marco shrugged in admittance, not looking guilty in the slightest. "Well, no. I don't care how much it pays, but I like my freedom, which isn't something I'll be able to retain while babysitting a girl."

"It was worth a shot. Will I see you soon?"

Harry glanced at Maria. It wouldn't be wise to show up at Aurelius Manor while she was here unless he wanted to be bombarded with questions about his true identity. "Maybe not – not here at least."

A grin broke upon Marco's face. "Why? Because you have a crush on my sister?"

For a moment, Harry was stunned into silence, but then realised he could have some fun with this."Yes, Marco," he deadpanned, "it is because I have a crush on your sister and I'm _obviously_ not confident enough to confront her about it. That's also a reason why I didn't want to be her bodyguard. From that position it would be too hard to manipulate her into growing dependant on me. I'm also nowhere _near_ manipulative and amoral enough to take advantage of the fact I saved her life."

Marco laughed. "I guess you have a point, but you do admit you have a crush on her?"

"I'm not sure what one counts as a crush, but I am certainly attracted to her. I could describe in explicit detail all of her attractive features if you wanted, but I doubt you would appreciate that." Harry hummed. "I suppose I could do the same for your mother as well if you like."

Loki cackled as Marco grew red in embarrassment. "I would prefer if you didn't, and-"

"Wait, aren't you meant to do the overprotective brother speech?" Now Harry was on a roll, with his goal to make Marco feel as uncomfortable as possible. "Or are you just going to do the one about using protection?" Harry paused and frowned. "I never actually got an official sex talk, I think you might have to do that for me as well. My first question is where do you-"

"Okay, okay! I admit you're better at this whole embarrassing people thing."

Harry smirked. "I was taught by the best, I assure you." He glanced at his wrist, pretending he had a watch. "Well, I best take my leave. I don't want to keep my harem of Mafia heiresses waiting."

Without a final look at Marco, he strolled from the doors.

* * *

 _'Do you think that she'll reveal my identity?'_

Loki hummed. _'While I cannot be sure, I do not think so. You saving her makes her indebted to you and there is nothing for her to gain by telling anyone - other than her crush's ire, of course. There is also no proof other than your name being Harry and being a similar age. Any attempt will probably be dismissed as a teenager's silly fantasy to be saved by a wizarding hero, only helped by her possibly being in shock.'_

 _'I suppose.'_

Using illusionary money, Harry checked into the muggle hotel. It was inconvenient to stay in the magical world when he needed to do experiments on muggles. Unfortunately muggle slaves were expensive to buy and frowned upon by most of society. Then again, so was practising spells upon muggles, but Harry was going to do it anyway.

He sought to practise illusions, something he hadn't done in a while. Whilst he could disguise himself with relative ease, he fell flat when attempting to create light illusions not centred around himself or when trying to make himself convincingly invisible. Practise was also needed with telepathic illusions, though that would be better done on wizards seeing as he could already do those easily against muggles since they had no natural magic to shield their mind.

After going up to his room to see it in case he felt like apparating up later – he most likely wouldn't as it was too easy to track and horrible to do – he headed back down to the street. Sitting down at a seat outside a restaurant, he asked Loki, _'What shall I do?'_

 _'Start off simple. Do something that people don't usually take notice of - like your old brown-suited form.'_

 _'Okay.'_

Harry pulled his wand from his left sleeve and concentrated hard, Loki's will joining him. He began to weave the illusion, imagining every angle and then forcing the light to bend into that shape. Then the brown-suited man stood in the middle of the street, unmoving and looking slightly alien. With a further burst of concentration, Harry made the man move forward in a robotic, repetitive movement.

 _'That won't convince anyone but an idiot,'_ Loki commented. _'I told you to do this outside so that you can observe real people and see how they act. You must learn to mimic them.'_

With a nod, Harry refocused upon the task at hand. Eventually he was able to craft a figure realistic enough to fool someone distracted by being in the heat battle. Too mentally exhausted from doing that for a while, he decided to move onto the next task.

While doing telepathic illusions on a muggle was already easy, a little practise could never hurt. It also turned out to be a test of his ability to keep a straight face as he kept on forcing illusions upon a rather rude customer within the restaurant so that they kept mistaking their lap for their mouth and pouring their drinks all over themself.

The first time she simply looked incredibly embarrassed, and the second she ran off, much to the amusement of Loki and Harry. Whilst that was fun, it was not the only purpose. Hitting himself with a muggle-repelling charm, Harry followed the woman into the back of the restaurant, whose toilets she was probably heading for. Putting her in emotional distress had made her mind more fragile, and now it would be easier to break in.

Coming across the woman, he murmured, "Hey," prompting her to make eye-contact before he projected himself forward. When creating illusions, Harry simply hovered on the outside, forcing images and sensations from his own brain into theirs, but not going in himself. This time, he would go in. With Loki to aid him and no prior experience, the best way in would most likely be brute force.

Harry smashed forward, and for a brief moment, he was rushing through the woman's mind. Colours rushed around him, too bright and too vibrant – and then pain, too much pain. He found himself hurled backwards and out of the mind. As Loki began to do away with the agony, he gasped for breath and collapsed to the floor. Looking up, he saw the woman had also slumped and blood was flowing from her nose.

Loki sighed. _'Well, I suppose that was to be expected.'_

 _'What?'_ Harry demanded. _'Then why did you tell me to do it?!'_

 _'Asgardian magic cannot be used to enter minds, whilst mortal magic can. I wanted to test if a combination of both could.'_

 _'And you couldn't have warned me?!'_

 _'You might not have done it if I did,'_ Loki pointed out.

Harry glanced back to the woman. _'So why did that fail?'_

 _'Asgardians cannot do mind magic like this because we automatically perceive all of their mind at once, including the pain they feel from intrusion, resulting in being unfocused, and thus thrown out. The issue was similar with you.'_

 _'So, is she dead?'_

Loki snorted. _'Dead? Definitely not. Perhaps if one as powerful as I had been doing it she would be dead, but she is only unconscious...and maybe a bit brain-damaged….'_

With a groan, Harry got to his feet, wiping away the blood from the nosebleed he had only just noticed. "I won't be trying that again," he muttered.

Suddenly someone screamed, and Harry was immediately spinning around. In his disorientated state, he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps of...a chef? He sighed and cast a stunning spell at them before turning on his heel and apparating, ignoring Loki's orders not to do it; he couldn't be bothered to walk back to his hotel at the moment.

The world warped and twisted around him, a crushing blackness squeezing in upon him. As clarity slammed against him, he decided it had been a terrible idea - probably induced by intruding into the mind of a stupid person. He hated apparating normally, but he had done it - and whilst already confused, no less.

That was why he missed his location, finding himself appearing a few meters above the ground and promptly falling at far faster speeds than he should have been, too confused to react. With a resounding thump he smashed against the concrete of what appeared to be an alleyway, his head rebounding of the floor. Normally it wouldn't have been too harmful, but combined with the stress of apparation and attempted mental infiltration, he promptly found blackness closing in on him, Loki's annoyed sigh and grumble of him being a complete imbecile the only noise in his ears.

* * *

Harry awoke with a groan and immediately noticed he wasn't where he had lost consciousness. _'Where am I?'_

 _'Believe it or not, I don't know,'_ Loki deadpanned. _'As powerful, handsome, charismatic, intelligent, and modest I am, I'm not exactly in a state where I can go off and take a stroll.'_

Harry rolled his eyes and looked around, seeing nothing but darkness. He felt that he was laying upon a metal surface and when he reached forward it was made obvious he was in a cage. After a moment his eyes had adjusted to the light, and after pouring a bit of magic into them, he could see the world in more detail.

Two other cages were in the room, but both were empty but for a few blood stains. At the other side of the room was a table with a pistol and a few magazines sitting on it. Harry checked his ankle and under his t-shirt. Sure enough, he still had both daggers, but he had to have dropped his wand when he apparated.

 _'Just my bloody luck,'_ he muttered. _'I get kidnapped by some bloody amateur muggles. Why did I pick a hotel in an area with a high crime rate?!'_

 _'Some do-gooder taking you to a hospital might have been worse. That would put your face and fingerprints in the system, and seeing as you had a wand with you, they might have handed you to a magic hospital, which is even worse than a muggle hospital. They might've taken your diguise and-'_

 _'Yeah, I get it.'_ Harry moved over to the cage's lock. _'You can rant about whatever you feel like ranting about later, but for now I want to get out.'_

His daggers were un-enchanted so he wouldn't be able to slash through metal, but he moved one into his right hand nonetheless. He pressed the other hand to the lock and channelled Asgardian magic through it. Orange light flashed through the room and the lock exploded with a tremendous bang.

 _'Your stealth abilities know no bounds, Harry,'_ Loki drawled.

He snorted and moved forwards, gathering blue energy in his palm. Suddenly the door burst open and a man came through the door, toting a pistol. Harry projected himself forward, forcing illusions upon the muggle's mind with ease. The man collapsed to the floor as pain racked through his body, Harry making him feel as though he was on fire.

With a glance at the door to make sure no one was following, Harry kicked the man in the head and picked up his pistol.

 _'Are you sure that's a good idea?'_ asked Loki. _'You've never fired a gun before.'_

 _'I've seen movies, how hard can it-'_

He was interrupted as a man burst through the door holding another gun. Harry screamed and the man screamed, and they both began to fire. A brief flash of pain travelled through Harry, but he ignored it as Loki numbed it. On what must've been his sixth shot, he finally hit the man, shooting him through his cheekbone and instantly killing him.

Harry swore and chucked the gun to the floor, muttering, "Useless piece of crap. Inaccurate and-"

He was interrupted by Loki. _'Yes, Harry. I'm sure it was the gun's fault, now shut up and let me concentrate on healing then bullet hole in your leg. It has travelled all the way through, so don't worry about getting it out.'_

 _'Oh.'_ Harry frowned. _'I suppose that was what the pain was?'_

 _'Yes, now let's leave.'_

Without a glance at the two bodies on the floor, Harry departed from the room. As he rounded another corner, looking for a window to depart through, a sprinting man bumped into him, impaling himself upon the dagger in Harry's hand. He gasped in pain, dropping his gun as the blade was then swiped across his throat.

An icicle was already flying from Harry's left hand as another man entered his field of view, this one armed with a crowbar which promptly clattered to the floor as its owner was killed. Harry moved forward and dived out of the window in front of him, falling to the concrete in a cascade of glass and rolling to his feet.

 _'Why didn't you just open the window?'_ Loki asked.

 _'Hey! I just found out I can't fire a gun very well. I need to know that I'm good at_ some _action movie things, otherwise I'll be struck down by crippling insecurity!'_

 _'You do realize that you left your wand in there?'_

Harry groaned.

 **A/N: That might have seemed a bit random, but I assure you that I have my reasons for introducing muggle gangs. Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Happy thirteenth birthday, Harry."

He raised an eyebrow, snapping his hand out to catch the offered bag of gold. "My thirteenth birthday was eleven months ago" – he looked into the bag – "and these are just this month's wages."

Marco shrugged. "You wished me a Merry Christmas last week – six months after Christmas."

 _'You did,'_ confirmed Loki.

"Whilst the voice in my head says that I did, I don't recall doing it, so I'm just going to assume you're crazy."

The man rolled his eyes, used to Harry's behaviours after dealing with them for a few years. "Anyway," he began, "what I wanted to speak to you about is a potential job. I have contacts within the International Council of Wizards, and a lot of people are trying to push for the reinstatement of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It looks as though it will happen."

 _'A competition between three wizarding schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang,'_ Loki reminded Harry.

"And, how exactly does that relate to me?" Marco grimaced, making it rather easy for Harry to guess what he was going to ask. "Oh for god's sake, Marco! I've told you a million times that I _won't_ be your bloody sister's bodyguard!" Marco opened his mouth to speak, but Harry interrupted, "And don't even try to deny that's what you were going to say, I saw your expression!"

"Well it was, but I don't have any other options. Maria doesn't like any guards except you for some reason, and she doesn't know that I have a teacher at her school protecting her. She'll want to go to the tournament, but my secret guard will not be able to. They're going to Hogwarts and-"

Harry held up a hand. "I'm going to stop you there. I like my freedom more than I do money, and I'm not going to a _school_ , let alone _Hogwarts."_

"Please, Harry-" Marco began desperately, but Harry cut off once again.

"I can't go to Hogwarts, Marco," he said, his tone now softer. "I told you when we met that I wouldn't tell you about my past, but I will say now that under no circumstances can I attend Hogwarts unless it is my _only_ option."

With a sigh, Marco let his shoulders slump. "I'm sorry. I'm probably being paranoid anyway. In all likelihood nothing will happen, I just…. You know what I mean."

Even if Marco was his friend, this wasn't a situation in which Harry could help him. It had been over a year and a half since he had saved Maria, and he wasn't going to stop avoiding her now, _especially_ if it meant going anywhere near Hogwarts. He doubted that someone as powerful as Dumbledore would be fooled by a disguise as simple as his, and he didn't want his identity to be known yet. It would cause all kind of problems.

"Was there anything else you wanted?" Harry asked.

"Nah, only that," Marco said, seeming to be attempting to do something akin to puppy eyes on Harry. Suffice to say, it wasn't working.

Harry snorted. "Bye, Marco. I'll see you soon."

A grin formed upon Marco's face. "I didn't think that would work. See you around."

With that he turned and walked off down Orrizo Alley, leaving Harry to stand alone.

"Well," he murmured, "off to the muggle world I go."

* * *

Gangs in Rome had been getting killed by unusual methods over the past six months. Normally this would fall to the jurisdiction of the magical government, given its proximity to the centre of the Italian magical world, but they had said that no magic had been cast at the scenes – no magic they recognized, at least.

Agent Phil Coulson had a hunch, and his hunches were not often wrong. His theory was only further evidenced by the fact that the majority of the victims seemed to be freezing to death or having an icicle stabbed through them in the middle of spring. When he witnessed a man turn into a blond boy on CCTV footage, there was only one conclusion he could come to: the shapeshifter from Russia was in Italy.

Someone of his ability could be a great addition to the Avengers Initiative, even if his morals were slightly questionable. So far SHIELD knew that he could shapeshift, control ice, telepathically control people, and teleport. With time they might be able to convince him to join them, but first they would have to find him and bring him in, whether he liked it or not – assuming it _was_ a he.

* * *

Harry approached the house's door, the location of which he had gathered from interrogating another gang member who had been only too happy to squeal once frostbite claimed his toes. It was not out of some moral superiority that Harry chose gangs to rob, but his targets tended to have their money in cash, and the authorities didn't care too much if a few died, assuming it was simply a gang war. The fact that he held a slight grudge after being kidnapped by one _certainly_ didn't factor into it.

He glanced to his left and right before hiding his wand under his jacket and pointing it at the door, murmuring, " _Alohamora."_ With a click, the door unlocked, and Harry silently slipped through.

It was quiet - suspiciously so - devoid of the usual laughter and chatter that filled a place like this even into the early hours of the morning. A few sounds remained, however, alerting him to the fact that there was not a silencing charm.

Allowing his wand to slip into his right hand and reaching into his jacket for a dagger, Harry walked forward. As with the previous room, the next bore no sign of activity, though guns on the table proved that this was the correct location. What had happened? Had they all gone for a pizza or something? Had-

 _'Stop!'_ Loki ordered, causing Harry to freeze. _'Tripwire at the next doorway. You're going to have to go over if you want to see what it's attached to.'_

With great caution, Harry stepped over the wire and crouched down to look at the device. Closer inspection revealed it appeared to be attached to what he recognized as something similar to a flashbang grenade. He frowned. A muggle trap then. That was to be expected in a muggle house, but it destroyed his slight suspicion that the Italian magicals had picked up on his pattern of attack and laid a trap. He had been quite predictable, striking when large amounts of money had been in his target location – that was something he would have to change.

It had to be the gang then, but using non-lethal methods of attack meant that someone else was here. Harry stood from his crouch, suddenly more alert as he began to push his magic into skin, reinforcing it. He was normally far more durable than a normal human, though could still be penetrated by bullets.

Whilst he couldn't boost himself to Asgardian levels, it would make him bulletproof, though a hit would still hurt like hell. It was the best option, however. Creating a shield that protected all of him would be a waste of energy if it were to stop multiple bullets, and he wouldn't be able to react whilst a bullet was in the air. It would hit him before he heard the gun go off.

He glanced at the room's doors and decided it would be best to leave. Money wasn't really an issue for him and he already had more than enough; he just took more partially out of greed and partially because he had no idea what the future held. Nonetheless, his life was certainly more valuable.

As he turned to exit, the sound of metal hitting wood sounded and he was instantly spinning, an icy wind bursting from the tip of his wand and flinging the object back to the room from whence it had came.

 _'Another flashbang!'_ Loki yelled.

Harry was immediately acting. A flashbang, as the name implied, relied on a bright flash and loud bang to heavily disorientate its target.

" _Obscurro,"_ he muttered, his wand pointed at himself as he cast the blindfolding charm. He didn't get time to do anything but open his mouth to negate any pressure before a tremendous bang burst through the air and his vision was briefly illuminated, even through the blindfold.

Dispelling the charm upon himself, he charged forward, into the other room. Immediately, he was confronted by the sight of two man in black combat gear, each toting assault rifles. All appeared to have been heavily affected by the grenade, making it easy for Harry to slam a kick into both of their helmets, saving his magic for any others as he knocked both unconscious.

A floorboard creaked behind him and he span, summoning a barrier of shimmering gold into existence. It caught what appeared to be two wires fired from a taser and Harry let it dispel, thinking a banishing curse as he blasted the man backwards and out of a window. Glancing out said window revealed dozens more armed men rallying outside and Harry ducked out of sight, gathering the concentration required for apparation – and then he was on his on his back, his head swimming.

When he had attempted to apparate, it had felt as though he had crashed into a wall, and there was only one thing that could've meant.

 _'How the hell do muggles have anti-apparation charms?'_ Harry demanded. While they were muggles and he was fairly confident of his chances against them, there were at least thirty, all with assault rifles, and going up against them was an unnecessary risk. He had a slight suspicion as to who these people might be, and if he was correct, he didn't want to go and display the repertoire of combat spells he had learnt over the past few years.

 _'I don't know, but we can worry about that later.'_

Anything else Harry was going to say was cut off as he felt something impact his back and then electricity was coursing through him, bringing a burning pain along with it as it ruthlessly ripped apart the disorientation that had allowed it to hit him in the first place. The sensation only lasted for a moment, however, as a cool numbness spread over him, Loki negating all pain and muscle contractions caused by the taser.

With coldness already coursing through him, Harry turned and surged forward, barely registering the man in front of him before he slipped the dagger's freezing-cold blade into his gut. The attacker didn't have time to be shocked that an apparent teenager had just stabbed through a stab-proof vest before his helmet was ripped off and his head slammed into the wall.

If Harry had stabbed any further, the man would most likely already be condemned to death. He had, after all, finally gotten around to enchanting it, making it supernaturally sharp and durable when he poured his magic into it, turning ice cold as a side effect. It would probably take a magical healer to do anything about a stab in the stomach worse than this one. Killing, however, was not Harry's current intention.

* * *

As the next round of soldiers entered the room, Phil Coulson walked behind them. After the wardstone he had "borrowed" from the wizards had stopped his target's teleportation, he had been confident that they would not escape. The house was covered in all directions by dozens of SHIELD agents, each armed with both tranquillizer darts, live rounds, and tasers.

The sight that confronted him proved that he had been right to be confident. Laying against the wall with a dart in his neck, taser coils attached to him, and handcuffs upon his wrists, was the target, his chest gently rising and falling. Three unconscious men were laid on the floor, two apparently devoid of serious injury whilst the third had a knife wound in his stomach.

"Get the wounded agent to the nearest hospital ASAP, they'll be better suited to deal with this than we are at the moment," Coulson ordered, motioning for two men to carry the agent out before moving over to the shapeshifter. "Don't touch him yet. We don't know whether or not his powers will react violently. Just make sure that he doesn't move."

He ran his eyes over the scene. From the looks of things, the agent who had been stabbed must've managed to neutralize the target before falling unconscious from his wounds. The weapon the target had used wasn't visible, but he had probably sheathed it. A few minutes later, he was torn from his thoughts as the boy in front of him groaned, but it was a deep noise befitting of a man. Perhaps the shapeshifter was returning to his true form?

The boy's form began to distort, and then a soldier dressed the same as the ones currently pointing their guns at him warped into existence – the same soldier that had been driven to the nearest hospital a few minutes ago.

Coulson swore, his hands going straight to his radio. "Medi-Evac, do you copy? You are potentially in danger-"

He heard the radio turn on, and an agent briefly began to speak, but then tires squealed and the sound of a car crashing burst through the speaker. The radio sounded as though it had tumbled to the floor. It picked up the noise of grunting and a few blunt impacts, and then someone picked it up. "Better luck next time, Agent Coulson," said a voice he remembered from Moscow almost three years ago.

The radio thumped against the floor again, and then there was only silence. Once again, Coulson cursed. This was the second time he had been played by the same target, and somehow, he felt it wouldn't be the last.

 **A/N: So, finally there's some illusionary trickery. Tell me what you thought.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

With SHIELD knowing he was in Italy, Harry decided that the smartest thing to do was to _not_ be in Italy. It was incredibly likely that SHIELD would be watching airports for him, and he didn't want to put his faith into creating another illusion, lest it fail or they had some other way to identify him. Unless he wanted to risk Harry Potter being seen, he would have to use a different method of travel. So after writing a quick letter to Marco alerting him of urgent business abroad that required him for an undisclosed amount of time, Harry cleared out his apartment and headed for the nearest Portkey Office.

Whilst a Portkey was far from an ideal method of travel, it was his best option. Holding an illusion over a distance of multiple miles had rended him too tired to apparate, and he wouldn't have been able to make it far anyway. The Floo network was not capable of crossing international borders, so unless he felt like running or swimming, it would have to do. Since all of his documents were forged, courtesy of Marco, Harry decided it would be best not to officially buy a Portkey, especially seeing as though SHIELD might think to look into magical records as well, seeking someone matching his description.

Unfortunately, he had no idea how to make a Portkey, and international ones were closely tracked anyway. He had decided that he would have to steal one or hitch a ride, but that meant he wouldn't have a choice as to where he was going. It would _also_ mean that he would have to avoid the authorities of the country he arrived who would undoubtedly be waiting for any new arrivals – that was if he didn't manage to dodge them altogether.

By the time he had arrived at Orrizo Alley's Portkey Office, he had decided not to take the approach of a direct assault. If he was smart about this, no one would even know what he had done.

After entering the large building he went over to what appeared to be the waiting area, sitting down on a seat and listening to those around him.

"Come on," said a woman who appeared to be the mother of the two children she was with, "our Portkey leaves exactly at 6:00, and if we miss it we'll have to pay for another one!" She looked at who Harry guessed was her husband. "Make sure that we've got everything!"

Harry looked to his watch. 5:58. _'We'll be going with them,'_ he said to Loki.

 _'Okay, and don't look at your watch again. It might raise suspicion. I'll count the time for us.'_

 _'Someone looking at their watch isn't suspicious. You're just paranoid and want the chance to show off your counting skills.'_

 _'You cannot fault me for that,'_ Loki drawled. _'As with every part of me, they are quite phenomenal. Now concentrate, they're moving.'_

True to his word, the family of four moved over to a quite deserted spot over by the toilets, dragging their trunks after them. A short while later, Harry hoisted the expanded backpack with his belongings in onto his back, fastened the black cloak he was using to conceal his face, and followed them over.

 _'Ten seconds,'_ said Loki.

Harry was getting closer.

 _'Five seconds.'_

He was nearing them even further.

 _'Three seconds.'_

And then he tripped over, his arms lashing out as he fell and grabbing the man's leg to support himself – and then the world beneath him suddenly vanished as he was hooked in the navel by a force and dragged forward by the man's leg, unable to unleash his grip. Suddenly, he felt his perception of time slow as Loki poured all of his energy into doing it, altering Harry's brain at the same time as he repaired it to ensure no damage was caused. The few moments Harry would have otherwise had to carry out his plan were extended to a few seconds - and that was all he needed.

Ignoring the swirling colours around him, he pushed a blast of Asgardian magic forward and out of his hand. A flash of orange overwhelmed his vision, and then with a final yank upon his stomach, he was a few hundred feet above the ground and rapidly falling towards the green fields sprawled out below. Whilst this had been a possibility, it wasn't exactly likely, and he hadn't really planned for such an occurrence. After all, there wasn't much information about people separating themselves from Portkeys, either because in order to do it you'd need to do extremely fast wordless and wandless magic, or because no one was stupid enough to do it.

Asgardian magic was much faster to cast, and for a slight moment Harry contemplated what it had done to the people he had hitched a ride from. Perhaps he had blown the man's leg off, or perhaps he had sent him careering off into the Rivers of Time. The latter was highly unlikely, but it would be a cool last resort if he ever needed to kill someone in the future.

A few moments later, with Harry a few metres closer to the ground, he subconsciously registered that his thinking of things like that at a time like this could have been a symptom of magical exhaustion. Luckily for him, he _consciously_ registered that it might be a good idea to halt his free-fall.

Calling up what little was left of his magical reserves, he pulled his wand from his sleeve and idly cast a cushioning charm over himself, his wand flying from his hand and up into the air directly afterwards. A second or two later he slammed against the ground, bounced once, twice, and then rolled to a stop. Even through his charm, that had hurt a hell of a lot, and a human would be left crippled or dead.

 _'Loki?'_ he questioned. From the lack of response he guessed that the time slowing had exhausted the god as much as having to pour out almost all of his magic power to dispel the Portkey's energies had exhausted him. _'I think I'm going to sleep now,'_ he said, and sleep he did.

* * *

When Harry awoke, it appeared to be just before the time of sunrise. If he had possessed any hell of an idea where he was, that might have given him a bearing on how long he had slept.

 _'Any idea where we are, Loki?'_

 _'Well, from the grass beneath us, I can determine that we're on Earth, and from the position of the stars, I can tell that I never bothered to learn how celestially navigate Midgard.'_

Harry rolled his eyes and set out to find his wand. Using Loki's magic sensitive senses and the bond he and the wand shared, it wasn't very difficult and it was quite easily found buried up to the handle in the dirt. After pulling it out and ensuring he had all his belongings, Harry set off in a random direction.

It was not too long before he came across a road. When he noticed the signs were in English, the cars were driving on the left, and there weren't any kangaroos or koalas roaming around, it didn't take him long to guess where he was. To England he had returned, and how he had not missed it.

Taking off his disguise necklace, he chucked it up into the air and slashed through it. SHIELD had found him in both Russia and Italy, so he didn't doubt that they could find him here, especially since they had a record of that face. He would have to create a new one, of course, seeing as Harry Potter would be more recognisable here than in any other part of the world.

For now he could just settle for holding one up himself which he would easily be able to keep up except when he was asleep. That shouldn't have been too much of a problem, given his recent twelve hour nap in a field. His appearance shimmered, his hair lightening, eyes darkening, scar disappearing, and facial features rearranging. Then he set off towards the nearest town, from which he would get a cab to London, from which he would...do…something?

Suffice to say, he hadn't quite decided on his plans yet. From all of his robberies and work for Marco, he was rich, and further reading had revealed that the Potters had also been quite affluent, enough so to boost him beyond millionaire status. He didn't need money, so he would just go back to his oldest motivation: to gain more power.

After arriving at Leaky Cauldron, Harry rented a room using some galleons he still had for some reason, not willing to risk being found to be using illusionary money. Then he began to carve another illusion necklace, only making minor changes from the one before. As with the disguise he had kept over himself on his journey to London, this one gave him brown hair, brown eyes, hid his scar, and changing his facial features.

So after putting it on, Harry headed out into Diagon Alley for the first time in years. To his annoyance, it being summer meant the inevitable presence of children and teenagers.

 _'Would it be wise for me to remind you that you are also one?'_ Loki wondered aloud.

 _'I don't count,'_ Harry explained. _'I work out my age by calculating an average between us two, so I'm actually the oldest human alive.'_

Loki snorted. _'It is a bit of a push to call you human.'_

 _'Well, saying I'm the oldest wizard-Jotun-Asgardian hybrid alive doesn't have quite the same ring to it, seeing as I'm the only one to ever exist.'_

 _'There might be another if I ever bred with mortals.'_

Harry paused. _'Did you?'_

 _'It is a slight possibility. As you know, my early attempts at shapeshifting led me to discover that there is a reason why it is a long-forgotten magic – your personality changes completely. I had Fenrir, Jogmungandr, and Sleipnir before I managed to regain my sanity, which is probably a reason why they all turned out as abominations,'_ For a moment, Loki was silent. _'It is incredibly unlikely, however, that I would have a child with a mortal. I would remember if I birthed them, and shattered pelvic bones would make it rather difficult for a female to survive a pregnancy, but-'_

 _'What?!'_ Harry interrupted. He already knew about shapeshifting into other people driving Loki insane – it was why the god refused to let him become an animagus – but the second part….

 _'Asgardians – especially one as powerful as I – have strength far superior to humans. This strength is not only present in our arms and legs, believe it or not. In times of excitement it is rather easy to lose control. Has this never occurred to you before?_ '

Stunned into silence, Harry took a few seconds to formulate an answer. _'I don't tend to imagine you – or any other Asgardian for that matter – having sex all that often, so no, it hasn't occurred to me.'_

 _'That would likely change if you knew what Lady Sif looked like – after all, you are a hormonal teenager,'_ the god mocked, and then he paused for a few seconds. _'On a similar note, you probably shouldn't have children in case the deformities of mine are due to my Jotun blood rather than shapeshifting.'_

 _'I_ really _didn't need to know that, but nonetheless, I'll keep it in mind to use protection whilst I accidentally destroy the hips of innocent girls.'_

Loki hummed. _'You're probably not that strong.'_ Harry felt slight relief at that. _'You should worry more about dislocation or accidentally freezing them in a moment of pubescent excitement.'_

 _'Don't worry,'_ Harry drawled, his tone thick with sarcasm. _'I'm sure as the_ glorious _Boy-Who-Lived, I have a nigh-on limitless supply of fangirls lusting after me. The love they bear for their idol cannot be breached by something as petty as major injury, or death.'_

 _'I wonder if that_ love _extends to covering up crimes for you,'_ Loki mused aloud. _'Not that any host of mine would ever be caught committing a crime – because of your overwhelming benevolence, of course.'_

Harry snorted. _'Fear not, if any attempt to falsely accuse me of any wrongdoing – like murder, for example, or something ridiculous as being in the magical Mafia – they shall fall before my glorious righteousness.'_

 _'How I wish cackling was not associated with villains,'_ Loki lamented. _'That is something we shall have to change as we rise up as evil dictators – I mean selfless democratic rulers, of course. 'Twas but a slip of the tongue.'_ And then he cackled.

 **A/N: So, Harry's back in England for now. I** ** _wonder_** **what will happen...** ** _Cackles benevolently_**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 _'Do I_ really _have to do this?'_

 _'Yes,'_ Loki insisted. _'Unless you would prefer to be in the heat of combat when you find out whether or not it works.'_

 _'Can't I take it off first?'_ Harry pleaded.

 _'Without your magic running through it, it will not work.'_ Impatience was obvious in Loki's tone, _'Now hurry up. I will numb the pain.'_

With a sigh, Harry pressed the gun to his side and pulled the trigger. A brief pain shot through him, as though he had been punched, but Loki immediately did away with it. It hadn't been as bad as things that Harry had previously experienced, but if it hadn't worked, healing the wound wouldn't be a pleasant experience if the bullet remained inside him.

Looking down to his side, he grinned. No blood flowed from his side, and as intended, his skin-tight undershirt hadn't been penetrated. That had been its purpose, after all. As a result of the encounter with SHIELD, Loki and Harry had decided to set in place better countermeasures for the weapons of muggles, Loki deeming Harry now powerful enough to create a method more efficient than just pouring power into his skin.

This had resulted in the spawning of what was essentially a skin-tight layer of clothing split into leggings, a top, and matching gloves covering all of Harry's body but for his head. It was carved with a range of near invisible runes, each working together to make it resistant against damage – and of course to make it cold and comfortable. It would not stop the large majority of spells, but making a magic-resistant version would consume too much power and would need to be made out of special metals or other powerful materials.

Unlike a real metal suit of armour, his "armour," as he mockingly called it, was easily hidden under normal clothes, so he also wouldn't have to walk around looking like an Asgardian soldier – a great advantage when trying to blend in.

As he grew more powerful, he would be able to afford to put more power into his armour to the point where he wouldn't even be staggered by sniper rifle rounds – provided that they didn't go through his head, of course. That was a problem he would need to fix. Loki could heal wounds on his body anyway; the armour just greatly decreased the needed energy. A serious brain injury was another matter entirely.

Loki lived within his mind, his soul, and if they were destroyed, he would most likely go with them. Nonetheless, wearing a helmet would be too attention-drawing to do, and in a few years he would be naturally bulletproof anyway. For now, it would be best to stay out of trouble. Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at that.

A few hours later, Harry found himself starting a brawl against a few muggle thugs to test out the effectiveness of his armour. Well, brawl implied that there was a chance of either side winning, when it really consisted of him standing there deflecting blows that came at his face and laughing as the fists of his opponents broke against his armour without harming him in the slightest.

 _'I feel like Superman or something.'_ Harry paused. _'Do you think there's a laser vision spell?'_

 _'Probably, but it doesn't seem like it would be very convenient.'_

Harry glared at the now fleeing muggles, willing his magic to surge up and raze them in a blast of red-hot light. Suffice to say, it didn't work.

 _'What about flying?'_ he asked. _'Flying would be convenient.'_

Loki sighed. _'That's what they have broomsticks for, but it would be unwise to trust mortal enchantment – especially if they thought that broomsticks were the best objects to make fly.'_ Disdain was clear in his tone. _'I suppose that it will eventually be possible for us to achieve flight. No wizard has managed to, but that isn't saying much. I highly doubt you will be breaking the sound barrier any time soon, however.'_ He paused for a moment. _'I think I have an idea about what we need to enchant next, and no, it's not to do with flying, or laser vision.'_

* * *

A black-cloaked figure stood over a table, a razor-sharp knife gleaming in his hand as he carved into the object below him. If his face had not been concealed by a gleaming white skull mask, his maniacal grin would have been visible. Red eyes shone from within the mask, staring down upon his work.

" _Yes,"_ he hissed. "My precious."

Suddenly, something in the air around him seemed to shift, his magic-enhanced senses the only thing allowing him to sense the minor change. He looked up for a moment, searching for any unseen enemy, and that was enough to distract him, causing him to let go of the tight leash he was holding upon his magic in order to power the runes.

A bright gold light burst from the object upon the table, the power in the unfinished runes exploding outwards and throwing the figure backwards. He crashed against the wall and felt his magic flare slightly as it flowed through his clothes and protected him from the impact. Nonetheless, he let out a groan.

 _'Loki, what the hell was that?'_

For once, the god sounded confused. _'I'm not really sure. It felt almost as if there was a tug on your magic, but I cannot sense the intent behind it.'_ He paused as he racked through his brain for more information. _'The closest thing I can think of is an attempted summoning ritual, but you cannot summon a mortal.'_

 _'Perhaps they were trying to summon you?'_ Harry suggested.

 _'I do not think so. As far as I am aware, there are no rituals to summon Asgardians, but perhaps because I am a spirit….'_ he trailed off. _'Anyway, start working on your wand again, and for God's sake take off that Halloween costume; that ridiculous mask is blocking your vision. You're too old for trick-or-treating anyway, and no one even does it in England.'_

 _'Oh relax, killjoy. You're never too old to go around terrifying people. My costume is awesome enough, and with illusions added to it….'_ Harry cackled in a decidedly Loki-esque manner.

 _'Whatever. Now finish the runes on the wand if you want to get out.'_

 _'Fine, fine,'_ Harry thought, moving back to the table only to find it smashed with his wand lying unharmed amongst the wreckage. Casting a quick repairing charm, he got back to work.

A few hours of inhumanly precise and elaborate carving later, Harry stood in the middle of relatively undamaged room holding his wand, a few more runes now carved into its surface.

"Here we go," he muttered, and then began to channel his willpower into it, willing the new runes into action. For a moment it glowed a gentle gold, and then elongated into a spear of Asgardian design.

Harry sighed in relief, willing it back into its original form. _'Are you bloody happy now Loki? I have a spear, but no idea whatsoever how to use it.'_

 _'It is rather simple,'_ said Loki. _'You point the spear at them and then use it to defeat them in combat.'_ Harry snorted. _'Anyway, you go and enjoy your Halloween. Strike terror into the hearts of mortals.'_

That night, many muggles would go on to experience terrifying "hallucinations," varying from being swarmed by hellhounds to getting sexually propositioned by zombies. Some would also report the Grim Reaper himself cackling nearby, clad in a black cloak with a spear rather than a scythe. All of these accusations wouldn't be taken seriously of course, classified as people getting a little _too_ drunk at Halloween parties, and that was exactly what Harry had wanted.

The morning afterwards he awoke rather late, having only gotten to bed in the early hours of the morning. Entering Diagon Alley, he suddenly paused as Loki said, _'Stop,'_ just as he passed a store selling newspapers. _'I think I may have found the source of last night's magical pull.'_

Harry stared at the headline of the Daily Prophet, fighting down the maelstrom of emotion that had just formed within him. _'I think I agree.'_

Upon the front of the news paper read: _Does the Boy-Who-Lived still live? Harry Potter selected for Tri-Wizard Tournament._

A few minutes later Harry was back in his room, reading the paper as fast as possible. It detailed how the night before four champions instead of three had been chosen for the Tri-Wizard tournament, one of them being him.

 _'How the hell has this happened, Loki?'_

 _'I don't have a bloody clue,'_ hissed Loki, ' _It obviously wasn't us who entered, but who has the power to enter us into a contest that takes our magic if we don't compete? They would have to use a conduit like….'_

 _'What?'_ Harry demanded.

 _'Blood.'_ Loki's tone held a sense of condemnation that Harry most certainly didn't like. ' _Blood would work, but not any blood produced since I have inhabited you, which would be the only type the wizards would possess anyway. Asgardian and Jotun blood is too powerful to use in a vow or contract-like ritual, so it would just be mortal blood.'_ Loki frowned. _'I estimate that it has the potential to rip any mortal magic from your body.'_

For a few seconds Harry was silent. Wizard magic was the most vital part of his power. Losing it was simply not an option. _'So I guess we're competing now.'_

 _'Fear not. It could have been much worse if our enemies had been smart enough to enter us into a contract that wasn't a contest designed for_ children, _'_ Loki sneered. _'Nonetheless, I will ward us so that it does not happen again – not that our mysterious foe_ will _be able to do anything like this again after our wrath has been imparted upon them, and their body is too mangled to bury.'_ He hummed thoughtfully. _'I suppose your true identity was going to have to interact with the world at some point, and why not upon a stage where you can demonstrate just how powerful you are to these_ mortals _?'_

Harry grinned at Loki's tone. _Perhaps -_ and that was only perhaps - this might be a good thing. _'Would this be an appropriate time to cackle?'_

 _'Yes.'_

 _'Manically?'_

 _'Most definitely.'_

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was more confused, surprised, and – dare he say it – scared than he had been in years. These feelings were not rivalled by even the events that had occurred in the previous few schools years. Quirrel's attempt at stealing the Philosopher's Stone had been rather pathetic, given the fact he had kept the real one in his pocket the whole time. A Basilisk roaming the school? Not a problem. It wasn't difficult for one of his resources and ability to find a way into the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius Black's rage about him managing to lose Harry had been much scarier than the fact he had been in the school in the first place, even if Dumbledore knew that the man was no match for him in combat.

No. This turmoil boiling within his gut was almost equivalent to the terror he had felt when he first sensed the fall of the blood wards around Privet Drive. With no sign of Harry Potter, and the Hogwarts letter leading to an empty room – surely a mistake – he had assumed the boy dead. If he was dead, however, his name wouldn't have came out the Goblet of Fire.

Harry Potter being alive was arguably worse than him being dead. Who knew where the boy was? The Hogwarts letter would have found his real address if he hadn't been hidden behind a ward, so he had to be with a witch or wizard. This was the source of Dumbledore's horror. No ally of his would hide the boy from him, so it was likely the child was with a dark-orientated family. Who knew what fate had befallen the boy there? Torture? Or perhaps being raised to be a follower of Voldemort? At this point, he didn't know what was worse.

Nonetheless, Dumbledore felt immense relief at the fact the Boy-Who-Lived continued to live – and that disgusted him. How far had he fallen that he would wish even the _chance_ of torture upon a child if it meant the Chosen One continued to live? _It was for the good of the wizarding world,_ he assured himself, but that only magnified the disgust as he was reminded that had been the motive of both Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort.

Whatever Dumbledore thought, it didn't matter, for Harry Potter would be forced to come to Hogwarts by the magic of the tournament, and who knew what awaited him there? After all, _someone,_ had to have put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and Dumbledore only knew of one man – one _abomination_ – with the motivation, knowledge, and power to do it. And if he still lived, the prophecy was still in motion.

 **A/N: Sorry about not uploading yesterday, I just straight-up forgot that I was meant to. Anyway, tell me what you thought!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was filled with more talking than usual, partially due to the extra students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang who had been there since the start of the year, and partially due to the fact that the champions of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been chosen the night before – and that wasn't to mention that one of them had been the thought-dead Harry Potter.

Everyone seemed to have a different conspiracy in mind as to what had happened. The theories of Dumbledore secretly training him returned, undoubtedly the most popular idea. The elderly wizard had apparently been training Harry specifically to compete in this, because a tournament for children would undoubtedly be the best way to show his power. While it was ridiculous, the other theories were more so.

The chatter was interrupted as the doors were thrown open with a thunder-like crash. All eyes were immediately upon them as a cloud of black smoke flooded through them, almost reaching the students tables before it was banished by a flick of Dumbledore's wand. A black-cloaked figure stood at the furthest point to which it had reached, its only discernible features neon green eyes gleaming from within a heavily-shadowed face.

A pale hand reached up and pulled back the hood, revealing handsome features that might have been mildly familiar to anyone who had known James and Lily Potter, and would've made anyone who had known Loki Odinson do a double-take. Almost anyone would have recognized the lightning bolt scar that sat upon his forehead, though.

Harry smirked. "I heard that I was invited."

 _'Damn,'_ he mentally murmured, staring out upon the silent crowd. _'I'm so bloody cool.'_

 _'That you are,'_ Loki soothed with a slight snort, _'but you shall never rival the sheer awe one such as I am able to inspire.'_

Anything Harry was going to say was cut off as Dumbledore got his feet, his skin pale. His mouth opened and closed for a few moments, his eyes wide, before he managed to regain his composure. "Mr Potter, I presume?" His tone was calm, but Harry could sense the myriad of emotions brewing within him.

"You presume correctly, Dumbledore."

"Resume your dinners, students!" he shouted over the rapidly rising din. "Mr Potter, if you would please follow me up to my office…."

Harry glanced around the room, taking in the shocked and awed faces. He was slightly surprised as he saw Maria sitting at one of the tables in a Beauxbatons uniform – he had almost forgotten she was there for the year. Looking back to Dumbledore, he nodded, and smiling brazenly, span on his heel, confidently striding towards Dumbledore's office, the location of which he had no idea of.

Excited chatter arose behind him as he exited the hall and waited outside the door for Dumbledore, who followed him a few seconds later and began to guide him up the castle. He glanced back at Harry a few times to ensure he was still following him, but otherwise didn't say anything.

 _'No eye-contact,'_ Loki reminded him. _'We don't want him to attempt to get into our head, lest I be forced to...deal with him.'_

Harry hummed in affirmation, but made no further noise, concentrating on his preparations in case the situation went sour. A man of Dumbledore's calibre was not one to be trifled with, whether or not the wizarding world thought him to be benevolent. While Harry and Loki thought that he most likely meant well, it was never wise to trust people based on reputation alone – a lesson he hoped that the rest of the wizards hadn't learnt; having trust and reverence based on something he did as a baby would be useful, to say the least.

Finally they came upon a statue of a gargoyle on one of the higher floors, Loki silently archiving Dumbledore's murmured comment of, "Ice mice," which caused the statue to leap aside, revealing a circular staircase ascending towards a room above.

Taking Dumbledore's lead, Harry followed him up the stairs and into the office above. It was unlike any he had ever seen, with all manners of strange objects covering its shelves, accompanied by ancient-looking tomes and a fiery bird which Harry guessed was a phoenix. He mentally noted to avoid that; who knew how it would react to one of Jotun blood?

After each sinking into a seat at the desk, the two wizards faced each other, Harry being careful to stare at the spot just between Dumbledore's eyebrows rather than actually making eye-contact. He promptly decided that he wouldn't be the one to break the silence, and he could wait forever. Well, 5,000 years, although he might need to eat before that point….

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles and finally said, "I thought you dead, Mr Potter. When the protections" – he glanced over to a shelf for a moment – "at Privet Drive fell and I arrived to the scene of your dead relatives with you nowhere in sight, it was impossible not to think the worse." His tone was full of sorrow, but with someone as experienced as him, Harry knew there was a risk that he was faking it, even if it seemed incredibly genuine. "Would you mind telling me what happened that day, Harry?"

He looked down at the floor, years of tutoring by Loki allowing him to easily conceal the brief satisfaction that ran through him at the memory. Briefly, he contemplated making his eyes water, but soon threw the thought aside. While he didn't want Dumbledore to think he was a remorseless killer and mass criminal, he didn't want him to think he was a weakling. "It was some robbers," he began to explain with a slight frown, "they came in the front door after me, one of them had a knife, and the other had a bat." With a deep swallow, he continued, "I ran away, and I read about the Dursleys dying a few days later."

The uniqueness of Harry's magic would make it impossible for even Dumbledore to sense it had been used, unless he knew exactly what he was looking for, which he didn't.

Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore let out a large breath. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that at such a young age." Harry could tell that he was slightly relieved, but by what? Perhaps that it had been muggles to kill the Dursleys, rather than dark wizards? "Where have you been living all of these years?"

 _'Oh, you know, the usual,'_ Loki began. _'Apartments and hotel rooms funded by theft and blood money.'_

Ignoring Loki, Harry answered, "A few weeks before this, I was cleaning the attic when I found my mother's Hogwarts letter." Neutrality flowed into his tone, as though he was concealing a concealing a non-existent sadness. "It had the address of Diagon Alley on it, and I decided to go there. If I could do strange things, then what explanation was there other than magic?" A snort escaped him. "That's what I thought at six, anyway."

Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his hands. "Surely you have not raised yourself since you were but a child?"

"Well, I was terrified of being found, since the Dursleys had constantly told me that an orphanage would administer beatings to me for the slightest mistake" – Harry suppressed a smirk as Dumbledore's face expression twisted into one of slight horror, ironically at the only part of the story which was actually true – "so I certainly wasn't going to turn myself in or anything. After a while I moved abroad and managed to get a tutor, as you might be able to tell from my dramatic smoke back in the hall."

Dumbledore nodded, a slight smile crossing his face. "And may I ask who this tutor is?"

Harry grinned, winking at the man. "You can ask, but I won't tell you."

One of Dumbledore's eyebrows raised. "Is that so?" When Harry gave no response, he continued, "Very well. I hope that one day you shall trust me enough to tell me, but for now, we must discuss your enrolment at Hogwarts."

Mimicking the man's expression, Harry said, "I don't recall making any plans to attend this school. If I remember correctly, you already have a champion competing in the tournament."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled madly, filled with either mischief. Harry briefly wondered what spell he used to get that effect. It was probably quite similar to the one he had used in the hall to get his eyes to glow neon green. "I'm sure that Beauxbatons and Durmstrang won't mind since you weren't at Hogwarts when the names were put into the Goblet of Fire – I'm assuming you weren't the one to place your name in there."

 _'Of course he was!'_ Loki confirmed. _'Being forced into a tournament far beneath his skill-level is his dream!'_

 _'Weren't you the one who was telling me this was a good opportunity to show off and make allies?'_

 _'No,'_ Loki denied. ' _It must have been one of the other voices milling about in this psychotic head of yours.'_

Resisting the urge to sigh, Harry answered, "Of course not. I wasn't even in the school." He paused for a second. "Speaking of that, do you happen to have the piece of paper that came out of the Goblet?"

With a nod, Dumbledore dug into one of his obnoxiously-coloured robe's pockets and retrieved a piece of parchment, reaching across the table and dropping it in front of Harry. As predicted, it was written in blood. Nothing could be done to get him out of the tournament, but Loki would stop any future re-occurrences. Nonetheless, Harry tapped his wand against it, reducing it to dust.

"Blood," Harry murmured aloud. "Where would someone have gotten my blood, Dumbledore?"

A grimace graced said man's face. "Well, there are multiple places, though it most likely to be the sample taken after Voldemort attacked you-"

"And why wasn't it destroyed?" Harry demanded. Surely even wizards wouldn't be so inept as to let people have the blood of their babies? It would take a rather knowledgeable wizard to be able to do anything with it, but still…. That reminded Harry that Dumbledore himself might have been the one to place his name within the Goblet of Fire, but he dismissed the thought for now. If it came to a fight, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Once again, Dumbledore grimaced. "Normally, it would have been, but at the time not all of the Death Eaters undercover had been discovered, and it wouldn't have been too difficult for one to steal a sample." He leaned back in his chair and sighed, apparently ashamed of the stupidity of wizards. "Perhaps we can move back to the subject of Hogwarts?"

 _'Perhaps you_ should _go to Hogwarts – even if only for a few lessons. There can be no harm in it, and perhaps we will learn something - though I highly doubt it. It will also make gaining allies far easier as well as giving you a room.'_

 _'I guess.'_

"Fine, Dumbledore, but I will not be attending the school officially. I will not let lessons interfere with my training regime for the tournament."

 _'After all, I don't think Hogwarts teaches laser-vision.'_

 _'Not this again,'_ groaned Loki.

 _'What?! If I am to rise as a benevolent dictator who happens to kill anyone who disagrees with him, then pretending to be Superman will greatly help me gain a following!'_

"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore said, his lips beginning to curl into a grin once again. "I suppose that I can settle for that, though I do hope you will return next year."

"Perhaps." He allowed no incredulity to slip into his tone, lest Dumbledore take offence. Why would he choose to stay in the presence of _children_ for longer than necessary?

Dumbledore stood, moving over to an ancient-looking leather hat atop a shelf. "And now you must be sorted," he said, lifting up the dirty clothing.

A frown broke upon Harry's face. "I don't-"

He was interrupted as a mouth seemingly opened on the hat and spoke. "Why have you awakened me, Albus? Decided to finally allow me to retire, have you?"

"Unfortunately not. I need you to sort a student." Before the hat could complain, he added, "Only one though."

With a reluctant sigh, the hat allowed itself to be moved towards Harry who shoved it away. "What the hell is that?"

"The Sorting Hat, it sorts people into their houses." At Harry's sceptical look he continued, "Do not fear, it is enchanted against revealing anything it sees."

"If you say so," Harry muttered before taking the filthy thing, casting a cleaning charm on it, then putting it onto his head.

 _'Well, well, Mr Potter, how nice to – WHAT THE HELL?!'_

Harry hadn't done anything, but he could feel Loki forcing his presence upon the hat. _'Listen here,_ hat _,'_ the god hissed. _'What you are seeing now are some of the states my former enemies have been reduced to, and cloth happens to be suitably more flammable than flesh. If you disclose anything you see here, you shall feel the true wrath of a god. You may not be able to process pain, yet I will make you scream. You have no body, but your very_ soul _will bleed. You cannot see, but I will show you things that can destroy the bravest of men. And by the time I am done with you, you shall_ beg _for the torment of hell, and you will rue the day you_ ever _chose to cross Loki.'_

 _'O-okay then. I'll just get to sorting you then.'_

 _'Gryffindor,'_ Harry suddenly said. _'I want to be in Gryffindor. It's what everyone expects of me so it will be far less suspicious than Slytherin.'_

 _'Have you done anything brave?'_ the Sorting Hat asked. _'I'm enchanted to place a student in the house they should be in unless they persuade me.'_

Harry racked his mind for any bravery. _'I saved a girl from kidnappers.'_

 _'You were being paid.'_

 _'Um...I dived out of a window in a cool way a few years ago.'_

 _'I don't really think that counts.'_

 _'Does it count as brave if I have enough courage to have Loki destroy you and then I piss on the remains?'_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

 **A/N: So, Harry has entered Hogwarts... I** ** _wonder_** **what's going to happen... Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Harry sat at the table, glad of its near emptiness. The Gryffindors were apparently rather late risers, and he was one of the only ones there, the few others not daring to approach him. It meant that instead of participating in idle chatter, he could focus on the task currently at hand.

 _'Stop ogling the French girl.'_

 _'I'm not_ ogling _her,'_ Harry defended. ' _I'm just, uh...scoping out my competition, and trying to identify any skills that she may have.'_

Loki sighed. _'Have you found any?'_

For a moment, Harry was silent, and then he finally said, _'She's really hot.'_

 _'Supernaturally so. And also seventeen. Her being chosen as a champion indicates magical ability. Probably not the type to go for fourteen year-olds, no matter how_ pretty _they are.'_

 _'Did...did you just insult yourself?'_

 _'No. I am far more attractive than you – even if we do look alike – and not fourteen.'_

A snort escaped Harry. _'So what kind of creature do you think she is?'_ Harry wondered. _'She's blonde, so she can't be a vampire….'_

 _'I really don't think that's how-'_

 _'Not hairy enough to be a werewolf….'_ Harry interrupted, filling his tone with false stupidity.

 _'Stop trying to annoy me,, and the newspaper said she is a half-veela.'_

A sigh of annoyance escaped Harry. _'So I'm guessing we can't use that to blackmail her – into losing the tournament, of course. I would never do anything more nefarious than that.'_

Loki sneered. _'She is no threat anyway. We are far above the skill-level of all of the others. Winning will be no problem for us, whether we cheat or not.'_

 _'Cheating?!'_ Harry gasped. _'How_ dare _you accuse me of conspiring to commit such treachery?! I am quite frankly appalled!'_

 _'I'm sure,'_ drawled Loki. _'You can detail your disgust to me later, but now there's an approaching girl you may want to talk to.'_

Snapping back to reality, Harry glanced up. From the Ravenclaw table where the Beauxbatons students were sitting, Maria was walking over. For a moment he contemplated walking away, but this conversation would have to occur at _some_ time.

"Maria," he greeted, switching to Italian as she sat down opposite him, "my first fangirl to dare approach me. I would give you an autograph, but handing out signatures is pretty stupid, what with the amount of rituals they can be used in." Mock filled his tone as he winked at her.

She raised a single elegant eyebrow. "That isn't what I came to talk to you about." He motioned for her to continue. "I just wanted to officially extend my family's hand of friendship to you as Harry Potter."

"Really? That's all?"

"A lot of people are going to want to ally themselves with the Boy-Who-Lived, and that's not even taking the Potter's wealth and influence into account. I thought it wise to be the first, seeing as I already know you, and the most people from the other schools won't do it anyway as a result of the tournament." She paused. "It isn't exactly the smartest way to create international relations, now that I think about it."

He nodded, making a mental note to go to Gringotts at some point and check the status of the Potter accounts. "I assume that you haven't informed anyone of my identity?"

"No, but Marco has worried about you since you left Italy and stopped sending letters."

A twinge of guilt ran through Harry, but he ignored it. "Will he be visiting to watch the tournament?" Maria nodded. "Very well, I will tell him then." He paused for a moment. "Oh, and I managed to get Dumbledore to give me my own room, so I haven't actually talked to any Hogwarts students yet. I don't really feel like talking to any of the other schools, so I don't suppose you can tell me when the First Task is?"

"The 24th of November." Almost four weeks to prepare, then. "Though there is a wand weighing ceremony in a few days."

For a moment, Harry was silent, allowing Loki to scour his mind for what she might be talking about. "What the hell is a wand weighing?"

"It's basically a press event for the champions to be further introduced, though a British wandmaker will be there to test whether or not the wands of the champions are in good condition."

Harry frowned and glanced at his sleeve. If the wandmaker was not Ollivander, he would have some explaining to do. "I'll be there," he murmured before standing up and finishing off a piece of bacon.

"Where are you going?"

"To get away before other students arrive." He was actually going to explore the castle and surrounding grounds to find out what the First Task is, but she didn't need to know that.

"Can I come?"

"No." With that, he turned and walked off.

As it turned out, Hogwarts was rather large, and Harry was rather impatient. After a short while, he was also rather lost. It was only a few minutes after that when he decided that no would really mind if he decided to get out by breaking a fourth story window and jumping out into the lake. So after, using bubble-head and water-proofing charms on himself, that was what he did.

Luckily the shore was quite nearby and it only took him a few minutes to reach it and pull himself onto. Upon seeing the size of the rest of the grounds, he decided that searching for the First Task could wait. Hell, it might not have even been prepared yet. Since he still couldn't be bothered to mingle with children, he thought it would be best to reschedule his visit to Gringotts to that day.

He walked farther and farther away from the castle, towards the wardline, and when he reached it, he mentally prepared himself for immense discomfort. And then, with a sharp crack, he disapparated.

A moment later, an identical sound marked his arrival at an alley he recalled to be a street away from the Leaky Cauldron. He slumped against the wall, resting for a moment or two as Loki cured his nausea, sending forth a wave of icy coolness to destroy the feeling of impending vomit.

After another few minutes, Harry was making his way down Diagon Alley, ignoring Loki's muttering about the untrustworthiness of goblins. Then again, it probably said something about the species if the self-proclaimed god of lies thought that they shouldn't be trusted. Perhaps it would be a good idea to deposit his money in Italy once he told Marco of his true identity.

Entering the bank, Harry strolled up to the counter. Unlike last time, the goblins didn't seem to react badly to his presence.

' _The illusions,'_ Loki said, his tone thick with realisation. ' _We were under illusions last time, but we are not this time. Perhaps that is what they sensed.'_

Harry hummed contemplatively, waiting for the goblin to look up. Angering them didn't seem like the smartest idea. Eventually the goblin asked, "Yes?" His tone was full of disdain, though it bounced straight off Harry - a side effect of having Loki in his head for almost a decade.

"I would like to access the Potter accounts."

Now the goblin looked up sharply, suddenly alert as his eyes flickered to Harry's scar for a moment. "Very well," he murmured. "You shall have to do a blood test to prove you are who you say you are." The goblin handed him a knife, and Harry could immediately feel the energy flowing through it.

' _An enchanted goblin blade. It will penetrate our skin far easier than a mortal weapon would,'_ explained Loki. ' _Probably a counter-measure in case an Asgardian discovers their continued existence and decides to eradicate them - they_ still _wouldn't stand a chance.'_

Dismissing Loki before he went off on a rant about the filthy cross-breed abominations, Harry carelessly swiped the blade across his hand, allowing a single drop of blood to fall into the stone bowl the goblin was holding forward - Loki had already taken the steps to stop people using his it to perform any ritual. It moved about for a moment, before emitting a crimson glow as it evaporated into nothing. The goblin nodded, apparently satisfied with the result, then turned to another creature and motioned towards him with his hand.

The second goblin walked over and the two briefly exchanged words, before the standing one said, "Follow me, Mr Potter."

A flicker of panic suddenly shot through Harry. ' _They won't have sensed my unique blood composition, will they?'_

' _No. Perhaps if it was a test to see the families you are related to, but that was specifically to see if you are a Potter.'_

Restraining a sigh of relief, he continued onwards, though readied himself to fight at a moment's notice. He found himself being led down a corridor, and then into a rusty-looking minecart. For the first time, the goblin showed emotion, baring his sharp, yellowed teeth into a grin as he motioned Harry in.

With only the slightest hesitance, Harry made his way into the cart, casting a bubble-head charm to stop wind from obscuring his vision. It proved to be a wise move a moment later as the cart sped to insane speeds and wind began to buffet his body. For an amount of time the disorienting speed and spinning made impossible to determine, they sped through the dark tunnels, only dimly lit by torchlight.

A few times however, a glimpse of well-illuminated chambers was seen. Loki's sharp reflexes allowed him to register what he was seeing instantly, and it looked as though Gringrotts had dragons. It seemed that the anti-theft inscription above their doors held some truth about attackers not standing a chance.

Eventually, the cart slowed to a stop, and the goblin got out, rapidly followed by an only slightly nauseous Harry. They were right outside a vault, and the goblin procured a key from his robes, handing it to Harry. With a glance back, he moved forwards, inserting the key into the lock, twisting, then taking a step back.

Gears grounded as mechanisms worked and the large metal door swung upon to reveal a rather underwhelming amount of gold. Sure, to an ordinary wizard, it would be worth a lot, but Harry had been led to believe that the Potters were incredibly rich, yet it appeared he had more than this already. Hell, he was certain that the Aureliuses had quite a few _paintings_ worth more! There also didn't appear to be anything other than money, which was certainly odd for such an old family.

He turned back to the goblin, who had stood by the door. "Where's the rest?"

"This is just a trust vault. The rest can be accessed when the magic recognizes you as of age, bu-" He had no time to say more as Harry cut him off.

"Take me to it." Hopefully Loki being ancient would even out the age.

With but a nod, the goblin led him to the vault next to his own and said it required blood to be opened. Harry didn't hesitate to take his wand out and slash it across his palm, allowing it to cut him. No pain was felt, Loki already prepared to stop it, and Harry pressed his hand to the door. The blood flowed over the vertical surface, seemingly washing away a layer and presenting a keyhole which Harry promptly used his key to unlock. This door made even more protest than the previous, groaning loudly as it slowly opened.

Harry stood, prepared to be awed by the amount of gold - only to see even less than in the previous. Spinning around, he demanded, "What the hell is this?!"

The goblin shrugged. "Your parents and grandparents squandered most of their fortune in the war, spending it on their little _vigilante_ group and donating it to Hogwarts and St. Mungo's."

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry resisted the urge to turn the goblin to a block of ice. It was not the creature's fault. It was the fault of his _parents._ He shuddered as he thought of what might have happened if they had survived. He would have went to Hogwarts at eleven with no previous magical tutelage, been a legitimate Gryffindor, head-strong, idiotic, and - worst of all - _weak._ Perhaps Lord Voldemort wasn't so bad.

With a large breath, he turned back to the vault and walked in, silently praying that his parents hadn't also seen it wise to sell all of the family's books and heirlooms. Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case, though it was suspiciously devoid of any dark magic. Harry rapidly learned that one of his ancestors had been a Dumbledore-esque figure to the wizarding world, a fact that he might've known if he had bothered to read any detailed history books.

What the history books did not reveal about "Lord Potter," however, was the massive ego that was displayed in his journal. In fact, he rather reminded Harry of Loki in multiple ways, one of them being how he semi-frequently accidently slipped into referring to himself in third person as well as bestowing titles upon himself. On the fifth page alone, he referred to himself as the Lord of the Light, the Destroyer of Demons, and the Saviour of Sorcery. He also seemed to have a thing for alliteration….

Needless to say, Harry took that book along with a few others, both for entertainment and power. Seeing as they had been hidden in a concealed room that most wouldn't have noticed, there could be magic in there not seen for centuries. There was one other object in the room that immediately caught Harry's attention: a shining silver sword, red gems inlaid in its elaborate hilt.

Upon seeing it, Loki let out a strangled gasp. ' _What is it?'_ Harry demanded.

' _I recognize it from a book I read long ago. I think this is the blade crafted by Merlin himself to be wielded by the King Arthur... It is said to give untold power to its wielder, from the ability to control dragons themselves, to opening a portal between realms in the blink of an eye...'_ Loki's tone was filled with greed and awe.

Harry's eyes widened as he stared upon the fabled Excalibur. ' _What? Really?!'_

' _Of course not, you blithering idiot, Excalibur doesn't exist. Now hurry up, we have things to do.'_ Harry groaned as Loki broke out into laughter.

 **A/N: Didn't think I'd be that cliche, did you? ;) Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

While the sword might not have been Excalibur, it _did_ have some interesting enchantments - enough so that Loki had wanted Harry to take it, for once putting his trust in mortal work. After a night of study, Harry knew a bit more about the blade, primarily that it was supernaturally sharp and designed to go through wards. _That_ had been displayed when he had stabbed at the wall in frustration only for it to go straight through Hogwarts' protective enchantments and into the stone.

Seeing as he didn't know how to swordfight, wasn't sure whether or not it would randomly explode, and such weapons probably wouldn't be permitted within a school, he deemed it an unwise decision to bring it to the Weighing of the Wands, no matter how cool it might make him look.

When he arrived at the classroom where the Weighing of the Wands was being held, everyone was already there, despite him being exactly on time. He supposed they cared about the tournament more than he did, actually having been the ones to enter themselves. Along with the champions, headmasters, and the Ministry officials he had seen around the castle over the past day, there was another person: a woman dressed in robes a green almost as obnoxious as Dumbledore's clothing.

Behind the oddly dressed woman was a man with an incredibly old-fashioned camera that lit up the room with a tremendous flash every few seconds. Ignoring the apparent journalist for a few moments, Harry glanced to Ollivander, who was sitting at a table, and nodded. The Asgardian winked back, before nonchalantly leaning back in his seat as he noticed Dumbledore watching the exchange curiously.

A moment later the green-robed witch wearing far too much makeup noticed Harry, rushing over to him with her cameraman in tow. "Harry Potter!" she squealed. "It's excellent to meet you. Perhaps I could have an interview-"

"Maybe _after_ the Weighing of the Wands, Miss Skeeter," interrupted Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement and once again prompting Harry to wonder what spell it was.

' _Rita Skeeter,'_ supplied Loki. ' _A journalist for the Daily Prophet. Be careful with her if you don't want your reputation ruined. Offer to give her an exclusive interview, and that should placate her hunger for gossip.'_ He paused. ' _If not, a knife through the heart will.'_ Harry could practically sense his maniacal grin.

Concealing a snort of laughter, he moved over to the seats where the other champions were sitting. As they went up to Ollivander one by one for their wand inspections, Harry barely paid attention, relying on Loki to tell him anything of importance. Eventually, his turn came around, and he stood up, moving over to Ollivander and carefully handing the man his wand handle-first.

With a wink, he accepted it. He examined it for a few moments, before murmuring a spell too quiet for Harry to hear and getting no reaction. "A demonstration perhaps, Mr Potter?"

Harry could practically already hear the newspaper articles about his wand not working, so he took it into his hand and muttered, " _Herbifors."_ Even as the flower-conjuring spell happened, he was beginning to transfigure them, so a moment later, a bouquet of flowers constructed entirely of ice lay in his palm.

Ollivander nodded in approval. "You have a very strong bond with your wand, Mr Potter. I-"

"Aren't you going to tell us what it's made of?" interrupted Rita Skeeter, looking quite excited at the concept. Since all mortal wands were wooden, mortals tended to assume Harry's was just very highly polished wood with some extravagant designs on. Its unique appearance combined with the fact that Ollivander had listed the materials each other champions' wand composed of were apparently too much for the journalist or bear, however.

With a mischievous glint in his eye and a slow grin spreading across his face, Ollivander turned to her, causing Loki to swear. ' _I know that look.'_

"Well, Miss Skeeter, the problem is that I myself don't know what it is made of." The scratching sound of a quill on paper grew more frantic in the background. "Harry's wand came into my shop centuries ago, crafted by a mysterious wizard and delivered to one of my ancestors. The wizard who crafted it must've been truly great, for the enchantments on the wand are so powerful it allows none to see into it."

Harry withheld a groan, and Skeeter demanded, "Do you have any idea who this wizard was?"

"Well, there are only rumours, but the wizard said that the wand would only find its true owner in one descended from the line of Pendragon."

Loki groaned, swore, and then sighed. ' _Oh, Vandr. Why must you strive to annoy me so?'_ he lamented, and then sighed once again. ' _I suppose this will help our popularity, at least.'_

Skeeter practically squealed in delight, and Harry allowed himself to be dragged towards the closet for an interview.

* * *

"I'm not sure," said Harry, repeating a variant of what he had answered to the last ten questions. Needless to say, Skeeter was rather obsessed with his possible connection to King Arthur of Camelot, and Harry was starting to wish he had brought his sword – and most certainly not to "prove" that he was indeed related to King Arthur.

Skeeter had started off by asking him half a dozen times whether he had entered the tournament, to which he had answered no, causing her to rapidly move on to her next set of questions, concerning where he had been all of these years. He had been careful to be incredibly vague, stringing her a story similar to the one he had told Dumbledore, but being sure to include a few "heartfelt" stories about how he missed his parents.

From there, the reporter had went on to asking how he felt as though he had a chance against the other champions, who had been trained for years. Harry had talked about he had faith in himself, and he too had trained, also saying it was in his blood. He now regretted that, for it had brought Skeeter to her current line of questioning.

"So do you have any abilities that might indicate a relation to King Arthur?"

Harry's left eye twitched. "I'm not sure."

"How do you feel about possibly being related to Arthur?"

His other eye mimicked the motion of the first. "I'm not sure."

"How do you feel-"

Before she could get any further, he interrupted, "How do I feel? Quite ill actually. Must be the stress of the tournament getting to me." He was out of the cupboard before she could get another word in, but then quickly popped his head back in. "Write anything I didn't say, and I shall inflict the wrath of Merl-"

 _'Arthur.'_

"-Arthur Pendragon upon you."

With that, he turned again, this time not hesitating as he marched from the room. As he entered the corridor, he saw who he recognized as a Ministry official talking to a more important-looking Ministry official. A smirk threatened to enter his face as he heard the words, "Of course, sir. They're in the forest at the moment. They'll definitely be ready for the First Task." It would have been too quiet for human ears, but Harry was no human. It was time to visit the forest.

* * *

Under the cloak of nightfall, Harry entered the Forbidden Forest. He had a vague sense of direction in which he was going, supplied by a slight discolouration in the sky he had spotted earlier in the day. It was incredibly likely that they were concealment wards, and he needed to find out what was hidden behind them.

So he moved through the forest, wand at the ready to eradicate anyone – or any _thing_ – that dared to test his strength. It was not too long before he came across a path, but he decided it wise to stick to the side. His skills at Obliviation were incredibly limited, so anyone he came across would have to be permanently disposed of if he didn't want anyone to find out he had been here.

Eventually he reached an area where Loki told him to stop. _'The ward is only a few meters ahead. Give me a moment to check if it will detect you or not.'_ A moment later he continued, _'It is only designed to obscure noise and vision.'_

With a slight nod, Harry moved onwards, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he went into the ward. Immediately his senses were bombarded by the noise of inhuman roaring, and a moment later, a plume of fire bursting into the air and illuminating the clearing in front of him. Wizards shouting followed a few seconds later as they rushed to ensure that what Harry now saw was a caged dragon was not a threat.

For a moment, Harry was stunned into silence. _'We have to kill a_ dragon? _'_

Loki hummed. _'It shouldn't be too much of a problem. Look on the bright side, they might kill the other champions so that the tournament ends!'_

 _'I somehow doubt that will happen under Dumbledore's watch.'_

 _'Probably not. Nonetheless, we must plot to ensure that we too are not reduced to dust – dragon fire is a lot more damaging than normal fire.'_

Harry turned and began to move back towards the castle. He didn't want to stay here too long, lest he be discovered or roasted.

* * *

In the morning, Harry awoke slightly later than usual – a result of last night's activities. He could, of course, skip breakfast, but he had decided today was the day he would have his inevitable confrontation with the greater populace of Hogwarts. So he walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast, prepared to face the most annoying challenge of all: socialising.

As expected, he drew plenty a look as he walked the corridors, students pointing and gasping as most of them laid eyes upon him for the first time since the night he had came to Hogwarts. He simply ignored them, however. If they weren't going to approach him, there was no point in doing anything otherwise.

Eventually he made it to the Great Hall, and without hesitance, opened the doors and strode towards the Gryffindor table. For a moment, a hush descended upon the hall, but then it burst into chatter once again as he sat down. Harry almost snorted aloud at the poor attempts at inconspicuous glances by the red-headed boy a few seats from him.

It only took a few moments for the boy's restraint to shatter, and he said, "You're Harry Potter."

Harry turned to him, a flawless fake smile upon his face. "Yes, I am."

"I knew you'd be in Gryffindor!" he exclaimed. "Your parents were, and you're the Boy-Who-Lived! The other houses didn't want to believe it when Angelina said she'd seen you sitting on our table at breakfast yesterday, but here you are! I'm Ron Weasley, by the way."

With a nod, Harry said, "Good to know. I wasn't sure what house I'd be in to be honest." That was true. He hadn't been sure how well the hat would respond to Loki's threats.

"You _had_ to be in Gryffindor! Your parents-" It was around this point that Harry stopped listening and got on with a much more interesting task: eating breakfast. Loki would tell him of anything of importance came up, though he severely doubted that it would.

A glance around the Gryffindor table revealed that almost everyone was staring at him, though the emotions on their faces varied from awe to jealousy or skepticism. Harry moved his gaze to the other table in the hall. A lot of Hufflepuff seemed to be annoyed at him, proven by their impotent glares. The reason why became clear as he laid eyes upon the Hogwarts champion sitting at the table.

In Ravenclaw, not as many were staring at him as at the Gryffindor table, though it was more than there were at the Hufflepuff one, and those that were did so with undisguised curiosity. Slytherin, on the other hand, was completely different. A lot weren't sneaking glances at him, and the ones who were, whilst easy for him to see, wouldn't be detected by most. Harry could almost sense the "cunning" thoughts moving through their heads. From what he knew, they were a lot more divided than a house like Gryffindor, and a single act wouldn't be enough to gain their alliance. They would have to be worked on last - if he _wanted_ their alliance, that was.

He looked to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents, sitting at the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table respectively. Gaining allies from those schools would be hard, though easier in the lower years the school had brought with them. Like with the Slytherins, he would settle for respect. He didn't exactly _need_ people to be his allies anyway. In a fight that he was having difficulty with, schoolchildren would be utterly useless.

No, what he wanted was to be viewed as "good" in the eyes of the wizarding world - until he was powerful enough to defeat anyone in it, that was.

 **A/N: Not too much happened, but nonetheless, tell me what you thought!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Harry stared down at the newspaper in his hands, his face blank. He had managed to fix the problem of people seeing Loki when they looked into his eyes years ago, but if one were to look upon them now, it would have been an entirely different matter. Instead of him, they would have seen the spirit within; a god, fallen from the heavens, but they wouldn't have known that, and they would have thought it a demon - a testament to the fury boiling within them, a lot of it Harry's.

' _Calm yourself, Harry,'_ Loki hissed. ' _Destroying the paper and killing a few students will do nothing for your reputation.'_

Slightly loosening his ever-tightening grip upon the newspaper, Harry let out a slow breath. ' _I wasn't going to do anything.'_

' _I know, but nonetheless, I thought it was prudent to remind you.'_ Loki sighed. ' _You can never trust the emotions of you hormonal teenagers,'_ he added mockingly.

Harry snorted. ' _Skeeter is still going to die - slowly and painfully.'_

' _I am not against that,'_ Loki agreed. 'I _just know that it isn't wise to display your emotions in the middle of the Great Hall. Dumbledore would most likely object to you slaughtering his students in a temper tantrum.'_

' _It also wouldn't be good for us to display our ire at the reporter now. It would bad for us to be implicated in any wrongdoing concerning her._

A laugh escaped Loki. ' _Oh, please. We shall have nothing to do with her death. She will simply fall down the stairs, happening to lose all of her fingers to frostbite on the way down before being impaled upon a bed of spikes.'_ He cackled. ' _It will truly be a terrible tragedy.'_

With a slight laugh, Harry asked, ' _Why do you think she's doing this anyway? She didn't even mention my possible relation to Arthur.'_ He paused, before adding ' _Though that's probably a good thing.'_

' _I imagine she is being bribed to slander you, probably by one of the supporters of Voldemort who survived after his passing. A poor attempt at revenge. Perhaps it is the same person who entered you into the tournament,'_ Loki suggested.

Harry glanced back at the newspaper, skimming over the words proclaiming him a criminal who had threatened to kill Skeeter. That said, he had been mentally planning to do so, but unless she was such a skilled mind-reader that she had been able to bypass both Harry's and Loki's defences, she wouldn't have known that.

Switching his gaze to the students at the Gryffindor table, he noted the ones reading newspapers were occasionally glancing up at him, different emotions written on each of their faces. He would need to win them back soon if he didn't want his reputation eternally tarnished, and after spending a bit of the previous day speaking to some Gryffindors, he knew just how to do it.

* * *

At precisely the right moment, Harry stood from the Gryffindor table, strolling over to the Great Hall's doors. He had timed it so that only a few seconds after he left, the boy Ron had told him was named Draco Malfoy followed. He was a Slytherin, and from Gryffindor's descriptions of him - biased might they be - Harry guessed that not even those within his house genuinely liked him. Combined with the fact his father supported Voldemort, thus making it nigh-on impossible to ally with him, he made a perfect target for Harry's plan.

As predicted, he only made it a few feet down the corridor before the sound of footsteps reached him, promptly followed by a cry of, "Hey, Potter!"

He turned around to see Malfoy, accompanied by the two dumb-looking henchman who apparently followed him around. "Yes?" he replied inquisitively, looking Malfoy up and down before putting a look of smothered disdain upon his face.

Malfoy might have been good at concealing his emotions, but Harry was better at detecting them, and Loki was an expert. Both were sent into a fit of telepathic snickering as a flash of indignation and anger passed over his face, briefly struggling for words as he was given a taste of the treatment he gave to others all too frequently.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he finally managed to get out. Taking a step forward, he reached his hand out to shake Harry's hand.

The mild disgust once again crossing his face as Harry studied the boy's hand. A few moments later, he glanced back to his face. "Sorry," he murmured, fighting back a grin, "I'd rather not consort with the inbred." His urge to grin only grew as Malfoy turned red, stammering for words. "I know, _I know._ The Malfoys are all ancient and noble, but that doesn't mean you have to follow _all_ the Roman traditions - incest, for example."

As the boy began to reach for his wand, Harry's was already whipping his forward, firing silent stunning spells that instantly felled Malfoy's goons. He then surged at Malfoy, ripping the wand from his grasp and flinging it away. Malfoy had no time to react as he was grabbed by his collar and slammed against the wall.

"Y-you're just as crazy as the papers say," he stuttered, his grey eyes wide and terrified.

A cold smile slowly spreading over his face, Harry nodded. "I _am_ crazy. So absolutely mad, in fact, that the voice in my head is telling me to kill you."

' _No, I'm not.'_

"And now he's telling me that he wasn't telling me to kill you, but I think I might do it anyway." He hummed thoughtfully. "Do you have an opinion on this matter?"

"I-"

Draco was interrupted as Harry noticed a group of Gryffindors exiting the Great Hall and screamed, "What the hell did you say about my mother?! I'll show you the son of a mudblood!" With that, he threw Malfoy to the floor, letting the boy skid along before gathering his magic and wrapping it around his neck. Clenching his fist, he wrenched him into the air by his throat and resisted the urge to make Darth Vader noises, insteading deciding to twist his face into an expression of anger.

A few moments later, he dropped Malfoy to the floor, sneering as he choked for breath that wouldn't come. "Don't talk to me again, you filthy Death Eater."

With that, he turned and stormed off down the corridor. If _that_ wouldn't gain him the alliance of the Gryffindors, who knew what would?

* * *

"I assume you know why you're here, Mr Potter?" Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses, and if he were a mortal, Harry might have felt intimidated. Instead of that, however, he was feeling quite amused. But nonetheless, he looked down at the floor, feigning what was expected of him.

"Would you believe me if I said no, sir?" Harry could almost _sense_ Dumbledore's amusement. "That's a no, then," he said. "It's probably to do with Malfoy."

"Yes, believe it or not." Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore sighed. "You do understand that I cannot allow violence in my school to go unpunished?"

"Violence against junior Death Eaters who were the ones to start the fight in the first place?" Harry asked angrily.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't the impression that I was under."

For a moment, Harry stared incredulously at him. "You've worked in schools for God knows how long, and you're surprised about a student lying about who started a fight?"

"No," Dumbledore admitted with a shrug, "I just wanted your opinion on what happened before I acted."

"Well, I was just innocently walking down the corridor - as I often do - when Malfoy called out to me. After hearing rumours about him from the other students, I was understandably wary about his intentions. He obviously took offence to something, for he insulted my mother and went to draw his wand," Harry explained.

Nodding, Dumbledore asked, "And then?"

"I stunned both of his friends, disarmed him, and then neutralized the threat." Granted, that was a simplification, but it wasn't a lie. Still, Dumbledore persisted.

"Mr Malfoy said that you insulted _him_ , and also that you threatened to kill him, and then magically choked him."

Harry raised an eyebrow, deadpanning, "So did Rita Skeeter - about the threat, anyway. Do you believe her?"

A sigh escaped Dumbledore. "Nonetheless, if the media hear of this, they will simply use it against both me and you."

"So this is what it's about?!" Harry demanded, his face twisting. "You simply don't want bad press?! Well I don't care!" With that, he turned and stormed from Dumbledore's office, knocking his chair over on the way out.

' _Do you_ really _think that Dumbledore is going to fall for that?'_

Harry gave a telepathic shrug. ' _What reason would he have to think that I don't frequently throw temper tantrums?'_

' _He will probably call us back at some point anyway.'_

' _And?'_ Harry asked. ' _I'll just throw another tantrum. Oh, and speaking of what I threw my_ tantrum _over….'_

* * *

Rita Skeeter was napping in her armchair when she was awoken by a knock upon her door. She contemplated not answering it. After receiving a rather large donation from an anonymous benefactor, she was set for quite a while, so it didn't really matter if it was someone looking for her to write a story. It most likely was; she didn't have many friends, and anyone else would owl first. This would have to be one of the clients paranoid about their mail being intercepted.

A moment's thought later, she got to her feet. She wasn't only in this job for the money, she was in it because there were things that the public simply had a right to know about - whether or not she sometimes lied. Speaking of her occasional fibs, they occasionally gained her enemies, and that was why she had multiple protective spells upon her apartment. Moving to the door, she raised her wand to check who was on the other side.

Fortunately for her, she didn't need to cast the one-way transparency spell, one that was rather handy when she was spying. Unfortunately, this was because her door had just been reduced to splinters in an explosion of hellish light. She raised her wand to defend herself, an incantation beginning even as her vision began to clear, but she was not fast enough.

Her words were cut off as an invisible force grasped her throat in an iron grip, also muting her scream that started a moment later as a tendril of lightning blasted into her wand hand. A booming, terrifying laugh rang in Rita's ears, and she was thrown to the floor, sobbing in pain. She was not given time to recover, however, and a moment later, she felt her chin being gripped and wrenched upwards by a metal hand.

Another scream burst from her mouth as she found herself staring into the face of what could only be a demon, its blank, black eyes staring upon her from within an equally dark helmet. Its mouth was not visible, but it clearly had one, for broken breaths, somehow metallic, filled the air. " _Who told you to slander Harry Potter?"_ It spoke in a deadly, rasping whisper, yet somehow, the noise reverberated through both her ears and mind.

"Please!" she begged. "I-I don't know! He didn't leave me a name!"

The demon must've sensed she was telling the truth, for it drew back, standing to its full height, which appeared to be at least two meters. " _Very well, mortal."_ For a brief moment, Rita felt relief. It was shattered, however, as the demon uttered, " _Then you are no use to me."_

A beam of red light, about a meter in length leapt from the previously unseen sword-like hilt in the demon's hand. Rita didn't have time to start her final scream before a searing heat pierced her heart.

* * *

Harry gasped as he pulled away from Skeeter's mind, finishing the illusion off with a final stab at her mind and releasing his hands from her head. He glanced around the apartment he had broken into, finding it empty but for Skeeter's form, still dormant in her bed. This method of illusion was far more complex than his usual ones, thus requiring the victim to be sleeping and in contact if he wanted to pull it off successfully. It was also exhausting, requiring Harry and Loki to stay just outside the border of one's mind and constantly manipulate it.

Then again, the benefits of it far exceeded the downsides, for there would be no murder to investigate and Rita would think it a dream. And even if she didn't, who was going to believe that Darth Vader had broken into her mind and killed her?

 **A/N: Anyone guess what has happening at the end before I said so? Anyway, tell me what you thought!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table. As with the day after his arrival, it was near deserted, though the other houses had a few more students present. He was focusing on his breakfast, but promptly looked up at the sound of the bench opposite him creaking under someone's weight. Most of Gryffindor were afraid to have any interactions further than congratulating him upon his defeat of Malfoy - the news of which had spread fast. It had gained their respect, though.

As predicted, it was not a Hogwarts student, but instead one of Beauxbatons. "Maria," he greeted after swallowing a mouthful of food. "Nice to see you." And it was, though it was nicer to see Fleur, and mainly from behind, though he didn't think it was prudent to mention that.

"You haven't talked to me since you got here," she said bluntly.

Not stopping eating, Harry cast his mind back over the past few days. "That is correct." After it remained silent for a few seconds, he continued, "Do you want me to say anything about that?" He frowned. "There wasn't really any reason for me to speak to you - unless you know how to swordfight-"

' _You are many times stronger than her and not exactly very good at concealing your strength in physical combat.'_

"Actually, never mind the sword-fighting." Once again, he paused. "I'm still thinking of reasons for me to speak to you, by the way."

Maria rolled her eyes, and Harry suspected she thought that he was joking. "Anyway, I was wondering if you have any plans for the First Task."

With a nod, Harry said, "Yeah, I'm going to turn up, kill everything in my way, and then bask in the audience's awe. I do actually know what the task is, though."

"Really?"

For a few seconds, all was silent. "Oh," Harry said, as if shocked. "Did you want me to _tell_ you?" He hummed thoughtfully. "Na, I don't think I trust you not to run off and tell Delacour."

Maria stared at him incredulously, and said, "I kept your _other_ secret for years."

"You did," Harry confirmed, "but you didn't have anything to gain from telling that one."

"And what, exactly, do I have to gain from spreading this one?"

"You give your school a higher chance of doing well in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

She raised an eyebrow and said, "Do you really think I care about my school?"

"No, but I know that it would gain you political favour, and I think you care about that."

"I'm honestly not going to tell anyone," she said. "I just wanted to make friends with you."

As he glanced over to the Ravenclaw table, at which a few Beauxbatons students were sat, not so subtly glancing at them, realisation suddenly dawned upon him. A grin slowly spread across his face. "So you want your friends to think you're friends with the oh-so-mighty Boy-Who-Lived?" The slight reddening of Maria's cheeks immediately made him aware that he was correct. "Is this for some underhanded political reason? Somehow, I don't think so." With a smirk, he narrowed his eyes. "Does the Mafia princess want to look cool?"

"No, it's just-"

"Or _perhaps,_ her friends have encouraged her to go and talk to the amazing Boy-Who-Lived because of his _amazing_ attractiveness, and because she has a crush on him." He paused as she reddened further. "Am I doing this whole teasing thing right? I hear friends do this to each other, but Marco might have been lying, seeing as he's pretty much my only friend."

' _I am deeply offended, Harry. How could you ever say anything like that?'_

"Oh, I stand corrected. I also have an imaginary friend, but he doesn't have any friends except me. Anyway, speaking of Marco, he's also the reason I can't return your eternal affections and have sex with you, no matter how much you may want to." He paused and hummed thoughtfully. "Actually, maybe I will, but only if you beg. If I'm going to piss off Marco, I at least need a bit of an ego boost."

By this point, Maria was extremely red, and had stood to walk away. "That's a no then?" Harry called after her, attempting to not break out into laughter.

' _You certainly have a way with women,'_ Loki commented.

' _I know, I'm a complete casanova.'_ He watched her leave, wishing the Beauxbatons uniform was a bit tighter. ' _Hopefully this'll mean she won't bother us again - for a while, at least.'_

' _Maybe. Now I believe you intended on attending a few lessons today?'_

* * *

A while later, Harry felt himself entering the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors, which much to his amusement, included Malfoy. For some reason, he had allowed Loki to convince him to go to the class in case it included anything he didn't already know, though he thought that very unlikely.

Glancing around the classroom a bit, Harry sat down on what appeared to be the Gryffindor side of the classroom. Other students piled in, and then finally came the teacher. Harry had only seen the man once or twice, seeing as both of them frequently skipped meals, and he was quite glad of it, for if there was a living representation of ugliness, this man would be it. His face seemed to composed entirely of scar tissue, with one particularly large injury having taken his eye, and another his leg.

Mad-Eye Moody was apparently his name, though Harry felt that the adjective didn't only apply to his magic optical replacement.

"Right," he bellowed, his voice deep and raspy as he waved his wand at a piece of chalk and it began to write upon the blackboard, "the Ministry didn't want me to do this, but today we will be learning about the three Unforgivable Curses."

' _That's...odd,'_ Loki commented. ' _Though now that I think about it, he probably isn't actually going to teach the children how to do them.'_

' _Still though, I suspect this isn't the regular curriculum. Maybe it's a special treat for me?'_

Loki snorted. ' _Pay attention, he's going to speak.'_

' _I already know the Unforgivables.'_

' _Yes, but his inevitable rant about their innate evil will undoubtedly be amusing.'_

He snapped back to reality as Moody began to prowl around the room, his wooden leg clunking against the floor. "You there!" he suddenly snapped at Ron. "Tell me one of the Unforgivables!"

Wide-eyed, Ron stuttered for an answer before finally managing, "The Imperius Curse, sir."

"Ah, yes. The Imperius, a spell for controlling others. It was used by supporters of the Dark Lord" - one of Moody's eyes focused on Malfoy for a moment - "during the war to claim that he had made them do it, and that they were in fact innocent."

' _They can't have been. Even one as powerful as Lord Voldemort wouldn't have been able to sustain the spell over so many at once. It is also obvious when one is under the Imperius, so it would have been easy to detect,'_ Loki explained.

' _Yes, I already know that, seeing as you told me it last time. You just like the sound of your own voice.'_

' _Oh,_ please. _That would be to imply that there is anyone who_ doesn't _like the sound of my voice.'_ Loki snorted. ' _Anyway, I was saying that as I was wondering whether or not Voldemort managed to create some kind of mass mind-control spell, but it is unlikely.'_

With a nod, Harry once again went back to paying attention to the lesson. Moody was now preparing to use the Imperius on a spider, and Harry somehow wasn't surprised he had deemed it a good decision to go around using dark magic in front of children.

After a while of making the spider leap about, most of the class was laughing, and Moody boomed, "Do you think this is funny?!"

Harry tuned out once again as the crazy ex-Auror went on a rant about how this could be done to any of them, and then began to call people up for demonstrations. It was then Harry began to pay attention. He was using Unforgivables on _children?_ Mad indeed. After a quick discussion with Loki, he had his defence planned out, so when Moody barked, "Potter," he was well prepared.

As he got to his feet and moved over to the man, he resisted the urge to smirk.

" _Imperio,"_ Moody incanted, and bliss settled over him. A mere millisecond later, a wave of ice came crashing down upon it, obliterating it, though leaving the telepathic link between Harry and Moody. Through it, Harry could hear Moody's instructions, yet they were easy to ignore, and a moment later he was backtracking the link.

Moody was woefully unprepared as Harry turned his own Imperius on him, ordering the man to throw his wand out the window. Unfortunately, he hit the frame, and the wand simply bounced back into the room as Harry released him. He blinked a few times before suddenly turning furious and bringing his hand up as if he still had his wand. It only took him a second to realise he didn't have it, and he swore in a voice nowhere near as gruff as his usual tone before going to collect it.

Subtly taking his wand from his sleeve, Harry prepared to defend himself if need be. He had no doubt that if Moody attacked, it would be fast. Luckily, he didn't attack, instead choosing to go onto the next part of the lesson: the Cruciatus.

Like the Imperius, Harry didn't really care for it. Sure, it could be useful, but it practically reeked of dark magic, making it incredibly easy for it to sense if it had been used recently. He could quite easily replicate its effects with illusion, anyway. Nonetheless, it was amusing to see Moody take his rage out on a spider using it, or more specifically, to see the class cower away in fear from it.

Eventually, Moody ended the creature's life with a spat Killing Curse and flash of green light, prompting Harry to cut off Loki before he could go off about why it was useless. ' _Moves slowly. Asgardian magic can go through shields as well. Takes a lot of concentration. Can only kill one person at a time. Did I cover everything?'_

' _Yes, I think so, though I would still like to listen to the sound of my own voice. Would you like me to recite some poetry?'_

' _No, because then I won't have time to prepare for the first task and will be eaten by the dragon, resulting in the deaths of both of us.'_

Loki hummed thoughtfully, before saying, ' _Well, the only thing I love more than myself is self-preservation, so I suppose I'll have to go along with it. Are you going to go to another class?'_

' _Well,'_ Harry began, ' _if all the teachers are as crazy as Moody, I don't see why not.'_

* * *

"20 points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter," hissed Snape, his black eyes alight with cold fury.

"That's Lord Potter to you, you bloody pleb!" Harry resisted the urge to start laughing, keeping a purely serious expression upon his face. The rest of the class had considerably less resolve, and most of the Gryffindors had already burst into fits of giggles, apparently over their fear of him. For once they had the ability to do so freely, Snape's ire focused entirely on Harry. That was a result of the numerous insults he had given him.

Snape, of course, had been the one to start the verbal war, calling Harry a celebrity in a way he felt was wholesomely mocking. Taking offence to that, he _had_ to defend himself with answering every one of Snape's potions-related questions with flawless answers recited from Loki's memory. This had, of course, caused Snape to begin issuing detentions and taking points, at which point Harry had politely informed the man he wouldn't be accepting any punishments.

For some reason, this had drove Snape mad with rage, and Harry had been forced to defend himself with a string of "witty" barbs, such as "bloody pleb." Sure, he could've been more creative, but these kind of insults seemed to irk the professor more, judging by the flushed state if his face. He could've _also_ not insulted the man in the first place, but when he saw an opportunity to get himself further into the Gryffindor good books, he was going to take it. He also _really_ didn't like the man's haircut.

"Honestly," Harry said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Snape isn't even a pureblood name, so I can't blame _all_ of your ugliness on incest. Perhaps your mother decided to breed with a house-elf? Or perhaps it was your father?"

From the way Snape strode forward, brandishing his wand, Harry guessed that it was a sore point for him. Subtly, he slipped his wand into his hand under the desk, ready to cleave Snape in two, if need be. Even the Potions teacher, brash might he be, was not going to use overt magic against the Boy-Who-Lived, however. Instead, he tried to make eye contact.

And Harry allowed him to.

In a moment of woeful ignorance, Snape launched a Legilimency attack upon Harry, and tried to penetrate the mind of a god.

 **A/N: OOOOOO SUSPENSE! So, what will happen to Snape? Tell me what you thought!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

As he pushed himself forward, Snape found no resistance, but that was only to be expected. The boy was just like his father: arrogant, and far too lazy to ever learn something like Occlumency. He ignored the fact that the boy barely resembled James Potter at all and had eyes somewhat like Lily's in favour of forcing his way onwards into his mind, ready to discover what secrets lay within his thick skull.

There was nothing. Sure, he had expected the son of James Potter's head to be a bit empty, but this? This was impossible. Nothing but blackness surrounded him.

And then there was a flicker on the edge of his vision. Immediately he was spinning around, only to come face to face with- "Lily," he gasped. She stood before him, beautiful as the day he had last seen her, with tumbling red hair, and green eyes filled with...disappointment.

"Why, Severus?" she asked, and his mouth went dry at the sound of her voice, so lovely, yet filled with sadness.

"Why have you failed me? Why must you be so cruel to my son? How could you ever _think_ this was what I would have wanted?" He felt his eyes begin to water as walls that had remained up for over a decade began to crumble. "You loved me, didn't you, Severus? Did you think this would make me love you?" Her eyes glistened with viridian fury. "Well, I'll never love you. I hate you," she hissed. "It's your fault James is dead! It's your fault Harry's an orphan! It's your fault _I'm_ dead! How could you ever do this?"

Snape clenched his eyes shut, for he knew it was true, and he regretted his decision every day. If only Lily hadn't loved James. If only she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. If only he hadn't called her a mudblood. If only he had not informed the Dark Lord of the prophecy. If only his betrayal hadn't resulted in her death….

When he opened his eyes again, he was still staring into green eyes, yet now they were set in a handsome, smirking face, vaguely reminiscent of James Potter.

The classroom was silent now, but for the sound of his wand clattering to the floor as a single tear traced its path down his face, however much he ordered it not to.

"Class is dismissed." Nobody moved. "Class is dismissed!" he roared, and every was instantly packing away their things and moving towards the door.

For a moment, he contemplated going after the Potter boy, but what would be the point? Even in this state, he knew an attack on a student could mean imprisonment in Azkaban - or worse. Instead, he collapsed into his chair, locked the door, and reached for a bottle of Firewhiskey. And thus came another long night of contemplation and regret.

* * *

Normally, Harry would be unable to enter a mortal's mind. The unorganized clutter of their thoughts would result in his inhuman magic attempting to perceive all of them at once and failing. He found a great irony in the fact that Snape's mental barriers - designed to prevent intrusion - had solved that problem for him. They organized the man's thoughts and memories, making it much easier for Harry to go through them. Granted, they normally would have protected the man from any other telepathic illusion; once he had been given a direct connection to his target's brain, however, they hadn't stood a chance.

Allowing Loki to take control, he had rooted through the memories and thoughts at the forefront of Snape's mind, finding things that were rather...interesting, to say the least. From there it had been easy to allow Snape into his mind, diverting him to Loki's territory, where the god had proceeded to emotionally destroy him. Sure, they could have crippled him or driven him insane, but this was much more satisfying.

Tearing someone apart was good and all, but much more amusement could be derived from watching him do it to himself. Snape would also likely be too embarrassed by it to report it to Dumbledore, so it also avoided any risk of punishment.

Harry was slightly saddened by that having been the last class of the day. After all, he had only been able to mentally bamboozle two teachers, torturing one with the image of his own dead mother. That was odd, now that he thought about it, but he wasn't exactly normal anyway, and certainly wasn't averse to using memories of the parents he didn't care about to cause immense pain to a man - and one who had worked for Voldemort, at that. That said, Harry didn't really care about that. In some way, he owed both Snape and Voldemort, else he would have been a weak Gryffindor without Loki at his side.

He had made the decision not to attend any more classes - for the moment, at least. If he continued to do things like this to teachers, it would result in him being called up to Dumbledore's office again, and he certainly had no desire to return. The man might've appeared benevolent to the wizarding world, but Harry sensed that he had an ulterior motive where he was concerned, and there still wasn't any confirmation that _he_ hadn't been the one to put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

In short, the annoyance talking to Dumbledore brought outweighed the fun gained by literally messing with people's heads.

And so, it came time to _actually_ begin preparing for the first task. He and Loki had already decided that they would have to kill their dragon in a suitably dramatic manner, as to impress the wizarding public. The hard part was doing that without dying. Luckily, he still had the sword from Gringotts. It would make him appear heroic and brave without forcing him to reveal his wand could turn into a spear - something he wanted to save for emergencies.

That said, he didn't actually have any skill at sword fighting, but the dragon probably wouldn't either, so that would be fine. Then again, he couldn't breath fire - no matter how much he wanted to - so that evened things out.

After a while of strategizing how to defeat said beast, Harry decided to go to dinner in the Great Hall. It would be amusing to see what rumours about him the day's events had influenced.

A few minutes later he entered the hall, and soon after that found himself sitting at the Gryffindor table. Once again, he was near Ron, and wasn't exactly surprised when the boy asked, "So?"

It wasn't exactly much of a stretch to guess what he was talking about, but nonetheless, Harry raised an eyebrow and repeated, "So?"

Eager, Ron leaned forward. "So what did you do to Snape?" he whispered loudly.

Harry contemplated what to say. Revealing that Snape was reading the minds of his students would undoubtedly deal a massive blow to his reputation, which was already pretty terrible, what with the large majority of students despising him. He would probably be fired or forced to quit, but there had to be some reason he had been allowed to keep working here for years - and it most certainly wasn't his teaching ability.

There was only one reason Harry could think of that Snape might still be teaching: Dumbledore. At the moment, he didn't want to piss Dumbledore off, so he would leave it for now. If Snape decided to tell him, however….

It was certainly annoying that he couldn't tell Ron what had really happened, but it certainly didn't mean he couldn't ruin Snape's reputation in _another_ way. So, with tremendous vigour, Harry began to regale Ron and those around him with the epic tale of how when Snape had met his eyes, it had caused the man's Dark Mark to flare up as a result of Harry having been the one to kill Voldemort.

His explanation made no sense whatsoever, but that didn't really matter with his current audience. He went on to describe how he had purged Snape of the Dark Lord's power, forgiving him for all misgivings as a result of having accidentally seen the man's memories of his love for Lily Potter.

The effects of this half-arsed plan would hopefully be twofold, making Harry seem benevolent and prompting people to sympathise with Snape. Harry had no doubt that Snape would hate people being nice to him far more than he would them hating him. The spreading of the fact that he had been in love with a muggleborn would undoubtedly also damage his reputation among the Slytherins. And best of all, Dumbledore couldn't possibly be annoyed at him for making Snape look nicer!

As he got to the bit where he mentally battled all of Snape's inner demons - which were, of course, a result of the Dark Lord's power, seeing as Snape had been nice all along - Harry noticed a girl staring at him. It was not in the way that the majority of girls who stared at him stared at him, with-

' _Lustful awe shining in their eyes and their panties at their ankles?'_ Loki interrupted.

' _Something along those lines.'_ Instead of what Loki had said, the girl appeared to be glaring at him. ' _Who the hell is she?'_

' _I don't know a name. In the classes you attended with her, she appeared to be a rather diligent student, though. Probably a teacher's pet when the opportunity befalls her. No one really talked to her, so with the combined annoying personality and lack of good looks, I would guess that she had no friends - none that will be loyal to her, anyway.'_

' _Thank you for your analysis, Sherlock. "I don't know," would have done just fine.'_

"Something to say?" he asked her, not giving Loki time to formulate a response to him.

For a few seconds the girl looked startled, momentarily stunned into silence, as though her glaring had been stealthy. "Well," she finally began, her tone growing confident, "it's obvious you're making this up!" Harry agreed, of course, but Snape would be forced to confirm the rumours if he didn't want him to reveal what had _really_ happened. "Magic doesn't work that way! You can't just magically purge all the dark magic from someone's body like that. It-"

"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry interrupted in a deadpan. The girl, whoever she was, flushed red, but before she could speak, Harry continued, "You've probably never seen magic outside of a controlled environment. I can tell that Moody's lesson was probably the first time you've ever seen any magic classified as dark. Hell, you've probably never been in a fight, have you?" The girl's growing look of embarrassment was enough of an answer for Harry. "The nature of magic is volatile and random; it isn't some science to be quantified." Wizarding magic was, at least. "Otherwise, how could a baby have survived a Killing Curse from Lord Voldemort himself?"

That was something neither Harry or Loki had any idea of, and, as predicted, the girl didn't seem to either. For a moment, she appeared to be preparing to argue, but then glanced around and saw the amount of people staring at her. Apparently that combined with the fact that Harry had guessed correctly meant that she didn't particularly want to argue any more, for with a tight nod, she turned and walked away. Somehow, he guessed that the conversation wasn't over, and made a note to crush any willpower that inspired argument the next time she opposed him.

He also resisted the urge to yell, "Good riddance!" at her. It would probably disrupt the tone of his wise speech, which had indeed been very wise - by wizarding standards, at least.

Turning to Ron, he asked, "Who was she?"

"Hermione Granger, a muggleborn," Ron managed to get out between a few mouthfuls of food. "She's a proper know-it-all - a loner too. She stopped really talking to people after a troll attacked her in the first year, though I suppose her curiosity got the best of her now."

Harry stared at Ron in incredulity. "A _troll attack_ in a _school?"_

He only shrugged in response and Loki gave a snort of laughter. ' _A testament to Hogwarts' incredible health and safety standards. "Best school in the world!" they say.'_ Loki cackled, and then hummed and said, ' _Hermione is most likely useless, though if she has a reputation for being smart, proving that you're smarter than her might be useful. No need to befriend her though, a muggleborn won't have any political connections, and you shouldn't hire smart henchmen - that's not to mention how annoying she would be.'_

' _I doubt it can be too much more annoying than having to speak to these other children anyway,'_ Harry said with a snort. ' _And on that note, I think I'm going to leave before they trap me in another conversation.'_ With that, he got to his feet and headed for the doors of the hall, pretending not to hear Ron's calls asking for where he was going.

Exiting the hall, Harry found himself standing a few meters away from Fleur Delacour, for once without her band of followers. It appeared as though she might have been waiting, and he was immediately on guard. He had heard the tales of how competitive the tournament had got in the past and wouldn't be all too surprised if she tried to kill him, though doing it in an open corridor wouldn't be advisable.

"Harry," said Fleur, and from the way her accent leaked past the AllSpeak Loki was currently putting up, he guessed that she was exaggerating it. "I need to talk to you. Alone." Her tone held a supernaturally seductive undertone, and combined with her obviously fake smile, something odd was obviously afoot.

At a prompt from Loki, he decided to go along with it, allowing his eyes to glaze and mouth to water slightly as he followed Fleur. Though always keeping on guard, he didn't exactly have to fake the way he was staring at her. Even in a rather loosely-fitting robe, her movements were rather...fascinating, to say the least.

It did not take long for them to find a deserted corridor, and then Fleur turned to Harry once again, her expression slightly predatory.

' _Oh no!'_ Harry exclaimed. ' _I sincerely hope that she doesn't take it upon herself to steal my innocence! That would be most traumatizing! Especially if some of her friends help!'_

' _Pay attention,'_ Loki ordered, prompting Harry to look back at Fleur, who now had her attempt at a fake smile back on her face. That said, he didn't particularly mind paying attention to her face.

She looked up at him innocently, and asked, "So what's the First Task?"

' _Well, that was entirely predictable, to be honest.'_ Loki sounded rather unimpressed, but she was mortal, so that wasn't really much of a surprise.

' _Not necessarily,'_ Harry muttered indignantly. ' _I'm_ very _attractive. Like, literally inhumanly attractive! How could she settle for less?!'_

' _Perhaps when you aren't 14, and maybe you should talk to her?'_

' _No. I'm appearingly authentically stunned by her beauty.'_ He had now been silent for a few seconds, and Fleur had taken a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me, Harry, and I shall see to it that you are appropriately rewarded."

' _Seems legit, and I'll bet she's gonna give me her family fortune as well.'_ That said, for some reason the offer was looking rather tempting.

"I d-don't know," Harry said, a slight stutter entering his voice.

Fleur took a step forward, backing Harry against the wall and leaning over him. Her hot breath washed over his ear as she moved ever closer and murmured, "Really?" His breathing became rapid as she continued, "Please, Harry?"

As her lips brushed against his neck, Harry slumped downwards and mumbled out an answer.

Satisfied, Fleur took a step back, sneered in disgust, and then strode off down the corridor, not sparing a glance back. A few seconds after she had left, a smirk replaced Harry's previous demeanor.

' _So,'_ he began smugly, ' _how long do you think it will take her to realize that the first task isn't a broom race?'_

 **A/N: Tell me what you thought!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

As Fleur withdrew her hand from the bag, now holding a miniature dragon, she grew even paler than she had already been. Drawing back her shaking arm, she cast a glare at Harry. Any effectiveness it might have possessed was taken away by the terror she was clearly in, so he simply continued staring at her, his lips twisted up into a smirk.

After a few seconds, he switched his gaze to the other two champions. Both appeared to have had prior knowledge of the task's events, though as Cedric walked up to collect his dragon, it wasn't hard for Harry to detect the concealed nervousness in his stride. That said, a similar feeling brewed within his own gut.

Normally, he would not be so foolish to enter direct combat with a dragon, but the Tri-Wizard Tournament demanded it of him. Sure, he didn't actually have to _kill_ the dragon, as he had previously thought, but stealing an egg - even if it wasn't a real one - from a nesting mother was basically the same thing. She certainly wouldn't allow him to take what she perceived to be one of her young without a fight, so a fight he would give her.

He had spent the last few weeks preparing for this and he wasn't going to fail now, no matter what odds might be stacked against him. Illusions would likely be useless; he wasn't good enough to sustain something that would fool the dragon's sight, smell, and hearing for long enough. The spells at which he was most skilled were mainly ice magic, which he felt gave him an innate disadvantage against a fire-breathing reptile. Nonetheless, he had a sword, and dragons in fables were _always_ killed by swords; the fact that its enchantments seemed to be good enough to pierce a dragon's magically-enhanced hide could also help.

Casting his thoughts aside as Viktor Krum retrieved his dragon, Harry got to his feet and took what he knew was the final and most deadly dragon: the Hungarian Horntail. Well, this was just _fantastic_. Mentally preparing himself for the task, he relaxed into his seat.

And that was when a few more Ministry officials entered the tent, bringing with them Rita Skeeter and her photographer with them. Harry withheld a growl of annoyance as the reporter tried to gather them for photos. She hadn't been a problem over the past weeks, not daring to publish anything about him out of her fear of Darth Vader.

He briefly contemplated flashing his eyes a glassy black or turning his breathing robotic, but there wasn't really any need. For once, none of the other champions appeared to be prepared to deal with Skeeta, preferring to ignore her in favour of some last minute preparations. He couldn't find a fault in their actions, and particularly Fleur's, seeing as she was meant to go first and was the only one not to be informed of the task beforehand.

It hadn't been a wise move on her part to trust him, especially since she thought he was an idiot. He supposed that her arrogance in believing that no one could resist her charm made it so she deserved whatever fate awaited her in the hands - or more likely, the teeth - of the dragon. So when she left to confront her reptilian foe, Harry eagerly awaited for her to be brought back on a stretcher or in a body bag.

' _I don't think wizards have body bags.'_ Loki said, and then paused. ' _Or stretchers, for that matter. Nonetheless, we will find out if you don't concentrate on the task. Then again, if we are incinerated by dragon's fire, they could just put us in a jar, but we won't know anyway if we're dead.'_

Harry rolled his eyes. ' _Relax, I've got this.'_

' _I suppose I should have some faith you. You have, after all, been trained by a genius.'_

' _Indeed. An extremely modest genius,'_ Harry confirmed, glancing up for a moment as Fleur was escorted out of the tent to do battle with her dragon. He would be last, so he had a bit more time to go over his pitiful excuse for a plan. Brushing his hand over the sheath at his side, he confirmed his sword was still there.

Seeing as champions were only meant to have their wands, he had been forced to create an expansion charm on his sheath, with only the hilt protruding out of it and being hidden under his shirt, the blade being contained in what appeared to be a few centimeters of space.

Originally, he had attempted to cast a shrinking charm on the blade, but any tampering with its enchantments had resulted in a decidedly violent reaction which had sent him flying across the room. Suffice to say, Harry hadn't tried to do anything else to the sword after that, lest the consequences be even worse.

Once again, he relaxed back into his chair, thinking over his plans and listening to the crowd's boos and jeers, and the roars of a dragon.

An unidentifiable amount of time passed before Cedric was called up to compete. Harry mentally noted that as the Hogwarts champion fought his dragon, he received noticeably more cheers than Fleur, though he wasn't sure whether this was due to a better performance, or the large majority of the crowd composing of Hogwarts students.

Eventually, Krum was called out to the stadium, and Harry once again ensured that he was fully prepared to fight the dragon. He listened to the crowd cheer Krum on, and it wasn't long before he was called up.

As he stepped out into the stadium, he plastered a confident smirk upon his face, waving to the crowd and instantly sending them into a fit of cheering. That noise, however, was interrupted as a tremendous screech ripped through the air, and Harry finally turned towards its source.

The Hungarian Horntail was at least 50 feet long, and like the replica, it had scales a shining black, with bronze horns and spines. It was an intimidating sight, and that was _before_ it turned skywards and unleashed a burst of fire into the air, which only served to make it seem _more_ terrifying.

It opened his wings, and Harry was immediately struck by the thing's enormity compared to him - and the crowd for that matter. He glanced to the chain around the dragon's neck, confirming that some safety measures had been put in place. Hopefully, they would help him. Once again, the dragon stood on its hind legs, unfolded its wings and let out a tremendous screech, as if warning Harry that it would not.

Nonetheless, he casually strolled forward, his face speaking of smug confidence, rather than the nervous tension brewing within his gut. He stopped his careless amble at an instruction from Loki, standing just outside the range of the dragon's fire.

Without worry, he turned his back on the dragon in order to face the ground, noting that they weren't cheering _quite_ as loudly for him as they had been for Cedric. That was probably due to the reputation he had gained over the past few weeks. Whilst the large majority of Gryffindor revered him as a hero, and greatly admired him, his fanclub in the other houses wasn't so large.

Most of Hufflepuff resented him in much the same way that most of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons did, hating how he opposed their champion. Ravenclaw, though curious, were largely neutral on the matter. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were either also neutral, or clear in their utter hatred of him. Whether it was for slaying Lord Voldemort as a baby, humiliating Malfoy, or making Snape cry, he did not know. Come to think about it, he also didn't particularly care.

Nonetheless, their respect could be useful, and what better way to gain it than a display of his power? And what better way to display his power than destroying a dragon and showing off at the same time? He couldn't think of one useful at the present moment, so he lifted his wand high into the air. A crack of thunder split the sky, and lightning exploded from the heavens and smashed into the ground - directly where Harry had been standing.

The crowd went silent as a cloud of dust rose from what could have only been the sight of a misfired spell. Surely the second Hogwarts champion hadn't failed so soon? He was only a 14 year old, but this? Quiet murmurings began to rise up, but then the debris cleared, and they were afforded a decidedly unexpected sight: Harry stood unharmed, his eyes glowing neon green and a sword of shining silver hanging lazily from his right hand.

He slowly raised the weapon, and it took only a moment for the crowd to resume their cheering. And then he charged. Illusions would not fool a dragon, and spells would not have much of an effect; he would have to get up close and personal.

Bouncing from rock to rock in inhumanly large leaps, he made his way closer to the dragon. In turn, it let out a challenging roar, before unleashing a torrent of burning flames at him, causing him to duck behind a rock. Even then, the heat was searing hot, beginning to make him sweat. He didn't doubt that it was of a temperature hot enough to incinerate him in a moment - through his enchanted underlayer and all. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if it was hot enough to kill a full Asgardian, let alone him, with the ice of Jotunheim coursing through his veins.

For a moment, the fire relented, and Harry was immediately darting towards the next cover. He managed to dash a further ten meters after that, skidding behind the next boulder as the flames resumed.

Apparently, the dragon had learned, for as he made to progress to the next rock, he found a blast of fire heading towards him, the dragon not having expended all of it a few moments before. It was only his razor-sharp reflexes that saved him from certain death, allowing him to erect a shield of glowing golden light that prevented his incineration.

It was only a second or two before the dragon halted its fiery breath, and this time, Harry was confident the creature wasn't bluffing. So he dropped the shield and whipped his wand forward, already incanting, " _Infrigum Sanguo!"_

A bolt of bright blue light leapt from the tip of his wand like an animal closing in for the kill, entering the dragon's mouth as it opened it once again to release another firestorm. Its eyes bulged, and it appeared to gag on the blood-freezing curse. Apparently, the protections offered by its scales didn't quite extend to the inside of its throat. At this revelation - one that he had already suspected - Harry began to rain more spells upon the beast.

He knew that if he gave it even a moment, it would have the chance to retaliate with a blast of fire, so he didn't pause, firing low-effort spells off one after another. Another curse managed to get down its throat before it closed its mouth, this one a blasting spell.

The dragon dodged his next hail of spellfire before managing to move its head into the path of a bludgeoning curse. It didn't have much of an effect, but it dazed the dragon long enough for Harry to land his next few curses. That said, they didn't have much of an effect, cutting and blasting spells alike not having a discernable effect except for making the dragon angrier and causing it to flinch back, though he continued his bombardment, not giving the dragon a moment of reprieve.

And then: a moment of success. Blood sprayed high into the air as a decidedly Dark cutting curse struck the dragon's left eye. Harry, however, had only a second to feel victory, before something equivalent to a speeding car slammed against his side. A white hot pain gripped his face as he was flung through the air, and he dimly realized that the dragon had smashed him with its paw, one of its talons slashing through his cheek.

Light once again exploded behind his eyes as he hit a boulder, his head rebounding off the rock with a sickening crack. There was no doubt that if he had been a human, or not wearing his under layer, he would've been dead. That was probably why the crowd, formerly cheering, burst into screams.

Harry could hear people screaming in terror. It was irritating, for he was trying to get some rest. It also appeared that someone had spilled something hot and sticky over his face, and that he was, for a reason unknown, sleeping outside. He could hear Loki yelling about something, but he was too tired to figure out what, so he went back to sleep.

Suddenly, a burning pain was coursing through him, and his eyes snapped open, immediately taking in the scene around him. It only took the sight of the dragon for him to remember where he was.

' _Your armour absorbed the majority of the impact,'_ Loki informed rapidly. ' _You have a concussion, but it isn't too serious. I'm healing the wound on your face, so I can't concentrate on numbing everywhere else.'_

Harry staggered to his feet, ignoring whatever noises the crowd were making as he dived behind a boulder and out of the dragon's line of sight. He had neither his wand nor sword, and a glance from behind cover revealed the former to be directly under the dragon, and the latter to be about halfway between him and the dragon.

So, the sword it was then. With a moment's planning, Harry dashed out of cover and at his foe, not allowing himself a moment to focus on his sore, sore body.

Harry thought he saw something like surprise upon on the beast's face face, but his study of facial expressions, unfortunately, didn't extend to draconic ones, so he might've have been wrong. Nonetheless, he continued, even as the dragon drew in a tremendous breath, no doubt preparing to erase him.

That could not be allowed, however, and he feinted dodging behind a rock, before pouring his magic into a shoddy illusion of invisibility. It would only hide him for a moment - and that was thanks to the dragon's normally poor vision as well as the fact it was missing an eye - but a moment was all he needed.

Skidding to the floor, he grabbed his sword, and then was instantly on his feet again. A second later, he leaped skyward. At his magic's call, an icy wind swept up and caught him. It propelled him a few further meters forward as his illusion dispelled, and the dragon turned its fire upon him.

As the scorching flames billowed towards him, a strong shield of golden Asgardian magic burst into existence. Heat still seared at his skin, yet no flames reached through. And then Harry swiped the sword forward, slicing through his shield and flames alike before throwing it with inhuman strength. It span end over end in a style akin to a dagger, before embedding itself in the dragon's shoulder. The beast writhed in agony as the blade penetrated its skin, and Harry continued to fall downwards.

He hit the ground and rolled, picking up his wand and turning it skywards just as the dragon began to fall towards him, letting out another screech of pain.

It took a moment for Harry to create a plan. It was difficult to exert direct control over magical creatures, so any levitation charm to halt it would be rather difficult, taking its mass into account. Once your magic was inside a creature, however, it was much easier to control it.

It was because of this, Harry let the dragon continue to fall, and a moment later, it impaled itself upon his wand. Instantly, he forced his magic into the creature, letting it flood its veins and keep it levitated. He gathered his concentration, and a moment later, murmured, " _Gelventus Maxima."_

With his wand embedded six inches into the dragon's stomach, the freezing cold wind had nowhere to go but inwards. Ice rapidly spread through the dragon's insides, held in by the magic-resistant scales. A final, pathetic sound escaped the dragon, and then it was still.

Harry didn't let his concentration sway, however, not wanting to be crushed under a ten ton reptile. He was also not quite done.

Even as exhaustion threatened to claim him, Harry continued his intricate spellwork, dragging the magic from the dragon's skin. And then, as he had at the beginning, he focused, and called up an illusion of thunder and lightning, this time combining it with a blasting curse.

The dragon simply _shattered,_ leaving Harry standing within the frozen fragments of its corpse. The crowd was silent, and Harry wandered over to where his sword had fallen, embedded in the ground up to its hilt. With casualness that told nothing of the tremendous fatigue weighing down upon him, Harry grabbed it and lifted it up high.

He roared in triumph, and the crowd followed suit.

 **A/N: Bit of a time skip there, but I felt it was suitable. Anyway, tell me what you thought!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

As it turned out, walking out of the stadium before remembering to return and retrieve the egg didn't leave too good an impression upon the judges. Harry blamed that on brain damage, and also insisted that it was the only reason he had gotten the least amount of points - well, as well as the judges being part of an elaborate conspiracy to do...something.

His loss certainly wasn't anything to do with the fact he had almost been killed, or the fact that he had killed the dragon in an "inhumane" way. That was a compliment to him, in a way, for he was better than these petty humans. He was more powerful, faster, stronger! He was a god among men! He...was starting to sound like a drunken Loki…. Once again, Harry blamed it on the concussion.

Serious head injuries or not, he wasn't going to let himself be seen to by a medic. It would be rather embarrassing when he passed out, after all. So instead he slipped through the crowds without notice, made his way through the castle's hallways, and collapsed into bed. It was mere seconds before sleep embraced him.

* * *

' _Harry,'_ Loki prompted, prodding at his mind. ' _It's time to get up.'_

Groaning, Harry rolled over. ' _No it's not.'_

' _It's been eight hours since the task, and it is now ten o'clock. I had assumed you would want to revel in your victory and boast, but if not….'_

Harry sighed, and asked, ' _You're going to make me go anyway, aren't you?'_

' _Yes,'_ Loki admitted, not sounding the slightest bit sorry. ' _If we stay here, people may begin to think you are hiding some fatigue or injury from the task. If we go, however, you can make a dramatic entrance to the party they will no doubt be willing to hold in your name.'_ He paused, then added, ' _Partying with underlings, seeking to fly, calling down thunder and lightning, you're starting to sound like Thor.'_

For a moment, Harry waited for Loki to say anything further, and then asked, ' _Is that an insult, or a complement?'_

' _The former, no doubt. People always liked him more, but people are idiots - deluded, even.'_

With a snort, Harry sat up, and glanced around the room. He was glad to discover that it was, in fact, his room. In the state he had been in, it hadn't been a sure thing, and who knew what kind of place he might have wandered into in a school where troll attacks weren't very unusual?

Now safe in the knowledge that no other mythological creatures were nearby - or at least, probably weren't - Harry changed his clothes and made his way from the room and towards the Gryffindor common room. Luckily, he had been there beforehand, and thus didn't get lost on the way there, which he found to be quite an accomplishment.

So it wasn't long before he found himself standing outside the painting, contemplating whether or not to blow his way through. Whilst he had been here before, it had been weeks ago, and since then the password had been changed. Suddenly, he came to a realisation.

' _Wait a minute,'_ he said, rubbing his chin in thought. ' _Painting are sapient to some degree, yes?'_ At Loki's affirmation, he continued, ' _They obviously aren't as advanced and complex as humans, if they are able to created so easily.'_

It took Loki a mere moment to grasp his implication. ' _That...that might just work.'_

Harry made eye contact with the lady in the portrait, and mentally rushed forward with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. This was not an illusion; this was dominance.

As Harry slammed against the portrait's mind, he found his prediction to be true. Portraits were simple-minded, and with Loki's willpower behind him, it wasn't much trouble to accidentally perceive all of one's mind intentionally.

Having immediately found what he had came for, he pulled back. For a moment, the portrait froze, and then it moving again. That was no doubt one of the many charms he had sensed placed upon it.

The woman in the portrait looked around dazedly, and then focused on Harry. Before she could speak, he said the password and strolled inside. Seeing that though people were there, they weren't throwing parties in his honour, Harry decided that it simply would not do. A glance around confirmed that no one had seen him enter, he moved over to the window.

After a moment of concentration, three things happened: the window shattered, thunder roared, and a flash of lightning dramatically illuminated a figure whose eyes glowed a neon green.

Harry smirked. Showboating was fun, and if it made him look cool, who was he to not to do it?

* * *

It hadn't been long before Harry managed to sneak out of the party he had started and return to his room. Alcohol didn't really affect him much, and he didn't deem any Gryffindor attractive enough to have sex with - other than himself, of course, but he wasn't gay, and he imagined the mechanics of such an act would be rather complicated - so it hadn't been all too fun.

That said, it hadn't been all bad. His almost complete resistance to alcohol had won him all of the drinking contests. Hopefully that would gain him a few titles. Maybe a few concerning immortality, for a normal wizard would most likely be dead from what he had consumed. A full Asgardian would be unfazed, and Harry was only slightly affected, though a bit tired.

Nonetheless, he decided that it was a good time to see what was inside the egg, however, and promptly closed it as an alien screeching noise burst from it. Perhaps it _was_ a good time to go to bed.

* * *

It wasn't until next morning's breakfast when McGonagall delivered him a summons from Dumbledore. It wasn't exactly hard to guess what it was about, but still, he had hoped the man would simply leave the matter be. Nonetheless, it wouldn't be good to keep the man waiting, so Harry soon found himself heading up to the Headmaster's Office.

"Ice mice," he muttered at the gargoyle statue and it slid aside. For a moment, he contemplated whether Dumbledore was truly insane, or just playing to others' opinions of him. He wasn't quite sure which one he would prefer. He cast the question aside and made his way up the stairs.

Deciding that Dumbledore most likely already knew of his arrival, Harry pushed the door open and moved over to the seat, sitting down in front of Dumbledore.

"I assume you know why you're here, Mr Potter?" Dumbledore peered over his glasses as he spoke, and Harry couldn't help but notice it was the exact same line he had used after he had fought Malfoy. Come to think of it, he probably used the line on everyone to come into his office.

It wouldn't exactly surprise Harry if a large proportion of the wizarding population thought Dumbledore omniscient enough to already know what they had done, and to just be waiting for them to admit it. That said, Dumbledore was most likely skilled at mind magics, so it wasn't too outrageous an assumption for one to make.

Harry decided to have some fun. "I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," he said, his tone filled with great regret. "I know that it's completely unacceptable for a role model of my caliber to be drinking underage, but you see, I was just caught up in the celebrations of the task and didn't want to let my fans down."

Dumbledore seemed slightly stunned, and Harry resisted the urge to laugh. Dumbledore sighed and touched a hand to his forehead. "I feel as though you know fully-well that is not the reason."

Harry looked puzzled. Playing dumb was really quite fun. "I assure you I don't, Headmaster."

Arching an eyebrow, Dumbledore said, "It is to do with your performance in the First Task."

"Oh, about me forgetting the egg and not going to the medic? I assure you that I'm fine, Headmaster. It was only a minor-" Harry paused, and stared off into the distance, as if searching for a word. "Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed. "A minor coincidence!" Once again, he paused thoughtfully. "A minor conclusion? No, no, a minor concussion! I'm absolutely certain that's it!"

By this point, Dumbledore had to began to look more worried than chiding. "Are you sure you're-"

"Ah that's it! A minor concussion!"

"Please concentrate, Mr Potter."

"Of course, of course," Harry assured. "I have came to the minor conclusion that my minor concussion was only a minor coincidence, so I should be fine."

Dumbledore still looked uncertain, but nonetheless turned serious. "You killed the dragon."

Harry nodded. "I did."

"You were not supposed to kill the dragon, and as you can expect the dragon keepers are rather upset about the fact that you did."

"Really?" Harry frowned. "I was under the impression that wizards just killed dragons whenever they wanted to get their parts for wands."

Dumbledore sighed. "We use the parts from already dead dragons, and certainly not still-alive nesting mothers."

Harry was fairly sure the dragon eggs had been crushed at some point, now that he thought about it, but that was probably best left unsaid. "I'm sorry, in that case. I assure you that I didn't know." That was actually true. Why on earth would he assume that dragons would be treated kindly when he was being put to fight against one in what was essentially a gladiator arena?! "Anyway, what would you have me do?"

"You have acted within the rules of the tournament, so even if I wanted to punish you - which I don't - I could not," Dumbledore said. "I would, however, suggest that you apologise to the dragon handlers and make the misunderstanding known."

' _Your suggestion has been noted and promptly ignored,'_ Loki said formally.

' _Finally decided to talk, have we?'_

' _I've been contemplating the noise the egg emitted. The AllSpeak would have translated any mortal tongue, and though I do not recognise this particular dialect, it is quite similar to something I have heard before.'_

' _Oh, what?'_

' _Mermaids,'_ Loki dead-panned. ' _And no, they're not hot. You will be able to hear their language if you're underwater.'_

Harry turned his attention back to Dumbledore, nodding at the man and getting back to his feet. "I'll be taking my leave then. Goodbye, Professor."

With that, he left the room. He had some bathing to do.

* * *

" _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

 _We cannot sing above the ground,_

 _And while you're searching ponder this;_

 _We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

 _An hour long you'll have to look,_

 _And to recover what we took,_

 _But past an hour, the prospect's black,_

 _Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

The egg's voice promptly cut off, and Harry broke the surface of his bathtub. That had been rather morbid. From what he had gathered from that song, merpeople were going to steal what he would sorely miss, which he took to mean all of his money, and hide it in a lake. He found it highly unlikely they would be able to accomplish that, however, seeing as he doubted merpeople knew how muggle banks worked or were capable of robbing Gringotts or its Italian equivalent.

But what else could it be? His enchanted clothes perhaps? His wand? His sword? If they attempted to take any of those, they would face a rather nasty surprise. Nonetheless, he deemed it smart to prepare for the task, for he would have to do it whether or not they actually managed to take what they wanted.

And if he was going to do it, he was going to do it in style.

 **A/N: Sorry 'bout the longer update time. It's gonna be more like this now I'm writing 2 - well, technically 4 - fics at the same time. Anyway, tell me what you thought!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Harry blinked. "A ball?"

"Yes," McGonagall said. "The Yule Ball takes place every Tri-Wizard tournament. It is compulsory for all champions to attend." She looked pointedly at Harry over her glasses, and he responded with a dismissive wave.

"I'll be there." McGonagall looked skeptical, but Harry ignored her and continued to eat his breakfast. If she wanted to stand there all day, he didn't particularly mind.

' _So, a ball. Have you decided which one of your legion of fangirls you'll take?'_ Loki asked.

Harry thought for a moment before suggesting, ' _Fleur?'_

' _I don't think she counts as a fangirl.'_

Harry looked up to the Ravenclaw table, where Fleur was sitting. For a moment, she looked back at him, glaring. ' _You're probably right about that.'_ Harry sighed. ' _You'd think she'd be attracted by my awesome trickery of her...but no.'_

' _It is a problem I have faced many a time. Well, I would have if I cared for the follies of flesh,'_ Loki corrected himself. ' _I have long since passed the stage where such a thing was entertaining. But nonetheless, it was a slight problem in my youth. Even with my tremendous attractiveness, women didn't like the fact that I would occasionally vanish all of their clothes in public or illusion myself as Thor to sleep with his current girlfriend. They simply couldn't understand my sense of humour!'_

Harry snorted. ' _I'll be sure_ not _to do either of those things, then.'_

' _It'll be easier for you to get away with them. The Imperius Curse makes_ everything _easier - not to mention already being given an army of fangirls.'_

' _I think I'll divert you back to the topic of the girl before you go off on a tangent about the last thousand years of your life.'_ Harry thought it would be best to discuss it now, rather than in a few hours time.

' _As I said, your options are practically limitless - not Fleur, though.'_

Harry glanced around the hall, observing his peers. In the weeks since the First Task, not much had changed in their opinion of him, but that might've been due to the fact he had been avoiding interacting with the general populace in order to maintain an air of mysteriousness. Most of Gryffindor remained firmly in awe of him. Ravenclaw's curiosity had only increased, and, if anything, Hufflepuff, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang hated him even more. His performance in the task had been spectacular to the level that it had completely eclipsed that of the others, even if he had won the least points.

The media coverage had reflected that. Rita Skeeter hadn't even referred to him as a budding dark lord once, though that was probably due to her being terrified of him, or more precisely, dream-Darth Vader. That said, quite a few people had interpreted him as "dark," though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Being perceived as evil had made quite a few Slytherins like him more. It combined with the fact he had been widely thought of as unintelligent due to events such as his forgetting of the egg made him a rather easy target for manipulation. And if the Slytherins thought they were good at anything, it was manipulation.

Harry cast his gaze over the Slytherin table. ' _Perhaps a Slytherin would be a good acquaintance to the ball. It would be good to start building connections within the house; a spy too, perhaps,'_ he said.

' _Maybe. Purebloods also seem to be more attractive than average,'_ Loki observed. ' _That's probably due to centuries of breeding - and inbreeding, of course, though I'm unsure the latter tends to provide good results. And as you were saying, a spy or someone like it might be useful. We must find a way to do it without the Gryffindors turning on us, however.'_

Harry looked back to the table he was sitting on, and didn't doubt that it wouldn't take too much for these people to dislike him. ' _Perhaps I should beat up Malfoy,'_ he suggested, ' _or maybe say whichever girl I choose - if I choose a Slytherin, that is - to take is Malfoy's crush and I'm only doing it to hurt him.'_

' _That might work, but the Gryffindors have a tendency to not keep their mouths shut, so you should probably inform your spy that you are merely deceiving them.'_

Harry sighed, and said, ' _This sounds like a lot of unnecessary work.'_ He looked over to the Ravenclaw table. ' _Maybe I should just go with Maria.'_

' _If you do, you'll still have to work on the spy. The one who put your name in the Goblet of Fire and paid Rita to slander you likely has connections to Slytherin. And with the lack of cunning Slytherins seem to have, it's hard for me to imagine anyone who knows anything not bragging or letting something slip.'_

' _Not all of them will be that stupid. Well, they hopefully won't be if we're to have a spy operate within their ranks.'_ Harry leaned back in his seat, glancing towards the Slytherin table once again. There was no way it wouldn't look suspicious if he just randomly approached them. He would have to be creative.

* * *

Making first contact with Slytherin was quite a bit easier than Harry had expected. As he had predicted, many a Slytherin sought to have him in the palm of their hand. He had decided on going to Hogwarts' library, which would hopefully bear students slightly more intelligent than Malfoy was.

Whenever a student who wasn't a Slytherin approached Harry, a very subtle illusion of fear easily drove them away. It wouldn't work if their resolve to speak to him was even slightly strong, but most were terrified to speak to Harry anyway, and any willpower they might've had easily crumbled under a fraction of his power.

Harry had spent his time pretending to read a book concerning defensive spells, most of which were utterly rubbish. What was the use of a five-syllable curse that _tickled_ you?! He was resisting the urge to incinerate the useless text when, finally, a Slytherin approached.

Harry didn't take his eyes off of the book as they approached, or at least he didn't _look_ like he did. His eyes, after all, had been some of the things he had focused on where illusionary were concerned. It was vital if he desired to conceal Loki's presence or look like an angry god, but it also proved useful when he was trying to make himself appear to be looking in one direction when he was actually looking in the other.

The person approaching was a girl. That necessarily been vital, seeing as he could take Maria to the Yule Ball, but it was still useful. Manipulation was considerably easier when he could take advantage of his good looks and any romantic feelings. From what he could see of the girl and the fact that she had approached him, it wouldn't be too far-fetched a guess to say that she also thought manipulation was easier when you were attractive, for she certainly was.

She was nowhere near Fleur's level, and maybe not even at Maria's, but those two were not Slytherins. Long blonde hair flowed halfway down her back, and her eyes were a blue light enough that it verged on grey, and might have been called icy.

As she arrived at his table, she smiled and asked, "I don't suppose you mind if I sit?"

Harry looked up to her face for a brief moment, before letting his gaze wander down to her breasts. Her lips twitched into a smirk for an amount of time so small that most wouldn't have noticed, but Harry did. Now she thought he had taken her bait, it would be far easier to feed her his.

Grinning, he turned his attention back to her face. "Sure," he said with a wink. "You probably know who I am."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course. I'm Daphne Greengrass."

' _Wizards and their bloody idiotic names._ Green _grass as opposed to what? Redgrass?'_ Harry demanded incredulously.

' _I know, and I should probably remind you that your surname's Potter.'_ Before Harry could retort, Loki continued. ' _Anyway, I've seen her in classes, so she's in your year. Greengrass is an old pureblood family, if you couldn't already tell by the silly name. I don't recall seeing any Greengrasses on the list of excused Death Eaters, but the majority weren't caught to begin with.'_

' _Anything else?'_

' _I feel as though we should be innately against her because of her Greek mythological name, but other than that, no.'_

' _Her name's from Greek mythology?'_ Harry asked. ' _I know just how to seduce her.'_

Loki groaned. ' _Am I going to wish that I hadn't told you that?'_

' _I'm going to become a swan animagus.'_

' _I don't think that's how animag-'_

' _It worked for Zeus!'_ Harry mentally yelled. ' _Are you admitting inferiority to some imaginary Greek god who uses lightning of all things! That's practically saying Thor's better than you!'_

' _Stop trying to annoy me,'_ snapped Loki. ' _Pay attention to the mortal. Turning her into your spy, plaything, slave, thrall, or whatever you want to call her will require some effort at first.'_

With a snort of laughter, Harry once again embraced reality, glancing up from the book he had resumed staring at when Daphne had sat down. She returned his gaze for a mere moment, before blushing in a way that was certainly false and looking back into her book. She was so obvious that Harry was unsure as whether he wanted to laugh at her, punch her in the face, or yell at her. He settled for leaning back and seeing how this played out.

* * *

Daphne had chosen not to make any overt moves that day - not that a single one of her actions were covert - and Harry had returned to the Gryffindor common room. He needed to continue planting the roots of his plan if he were to maintain Gryffindor's trust while infiltrating Slytherin.

He walked over to where Ron was chatting to a few other boys, and asked, "So, what do you think of Daphne Greengrass?"

The boys looked slightly so surprised, though as whether the reaction was to him actually speaking to them, or the odd question, Harry didn't know.

"Um," Ron began awkwardly. "Well she's kinda - well you know..."

"Kinda?" a boy with an Irish accent said. "More like _really_ , 'well you know.'"

Harry grinned. "Malfoy seems to think the same," he said, "and I'm gonna take advantage of that."

Ron frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we've already seen that I can beat Malfoy physically, so the next step is emotionally, yes?" Harry's grin grew even further. "If you want to mess with the snakes, you've got to play like a snake, so I'm gonna take Malfoy's girlfriend."

A slight gasp sounded from behind him, and Harry turned to see a red-headed girl looking slightly mortified. When she saw him looking at her, she turned and fled towards the girl's dormitory.

Confused, Harry turned back to Ron and the other boys. Ron scratched his head awkwardly. "That's my sister, Ginny," he said. "She has a huge crush on you and I suppose she's a bit annoyed that you like other girls."

Harry blinked. "Well, okay then."

After a brief warning to Ron and the others not to disclose his plan to anyone, Harry departed the Gryffindor common room. He had barely left before the sharp tap of shoes against a stone floor followed. Harry let his wand fall into his hand, but did nothing else but louden his footsteps.

As he turned the corner, his follower was only a small distance behind. When they followed him around the turn, Harry found himself looking at a rather angry Hermione Granger as he leant against the wall, rolling his wand in his palm.

' _Another Greek name,'_ Loki said. ' _I'm already irritated with her.'_

"Anything I can help you with, Granger?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

She glared in reply. "Ginny told me what you were talking about."

"And?"

The intensity of her glare increased. "And it's completely unacceptable!"

Amusement rose within him, and he took a few steps forward so that they were a foot apart. Even from this range, he would easily be able to block a spell from a school child. "And what are _you_ going to do about it?" he asked.

Hermione flushed red. "I-I'm going to tell her."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you will."

"I will."

"Coming here wasn't wise," he said with a smirk. For good measure, he added, "Mudblood." While he didn't care about blood supremacy, it was apparently rather insulting.

Hermione's eyes flashed with fury, and her hand flew up in what Harry wasn't quite sure was a punch or a smack. It surprised him, as what kind of witch didn't use magic? However, he wasn't surprised enough that his reflexes failed him.

Before he had time to think, Harry plucked her hand from the air and _squeezed._ Bones crunched in his hand, and as a scream built in Hermione's throat his hand shot forward and grasped it. Lifting her by the neck, he slammed her against the wall and stared her in the eye. Loki's might roared within him and he surged forward mentally. An agony equivalent to being set on fire descended upon her, and instantly knocked her unconscious, as Harry had intended.

Harry almost drove his wand into her gut before he gained control of himself and dropped her to the floor. Pressing his wand to her near-destroyed hand, he muttered a few rapid yet powerful healing spells, mending the bone.

He glanced around to make sure no one had seen, and then looked back to the unconscious girl and muttered, " _Enervate"_. Pushing back any panic he might've felt at the risk of getting caught, he smirked. "Go ahead and tell Daphne my intentions, if you like. Just know that next time I feel as though you have attacked me, whether physically or not, it will be the last time."

 **A/N: Sorry about taking ages to update guys, I got obsessed with the Battlefront beta, updated my other fic, and then homework kept getting in the way. Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see you, sir," said the nervous-looking boy. Harry gave him an icy glare and the boy scampered from the library. Harry turned back to Daphne.

"Another time, Daphne," he said with a well-faked smile, getting to his feet. Anger boiled in his gut, but it would do no good to kill his spy before they were even his spy. It had been two days since the incident with Hermione, and he was starting to think that maybe _\- just maybe -_ she was smart enough not to report it. But that most likely was not the case. Hermione seemed to be obsessed with authority, even at the risk of her life.

The meeting might've had nothing to do with her, but what were the odds? Dumbledore had nothing to talk to him about - other than this, of course.

' _What revenge would you suggest?'_ Harry asked as he scaled a staircase.

Loki hummed in thought. ' _We can't do anything_ too _overt; Dumbledore will suspect that it's us. Maybe we should mess with her head, like we did with Rita Skeeter?'_

' _Any other ideas?'_

' _Hire some muggles to kill her family,'_ Loki casually suggested. ' _Pay them enough so that they'll make it look like a failed robbery, or something of the sort. If you do the latter, do it over Christmas break when she'll be there too. You'll need to hire some_ slightly _more capable people, but a gun will beat a schoolgirl witch any day.'_

' _Or maybe do both,'_ Harry said. ' _Give her nightmares about her parents dying for a few weeks, and then have them actually die.'_ He snorted in laughter. ' _And then she'll think that she has epic seer abilities, and will set out to do good with them, all while we provide her with more visions.'_

Loki cackled. ' _Of course! And she'll go on a series of epic quests, guided by her mentor Dumbledore to use the powers of love and friendship that will eventually lead to her defeating us and avenging her parents!'_

' _I've detected a flaw in our otherwise perfect plan,'_ Harry said. ' _You can't use the power of friendship if you don't have any friends.'_

With a sad sigh, Loki said, ' _I suppose that means that, in the end, she will fall before our might.'_

' _What a sad end that would be to our oh-so-unlovable hero… I guess we shouldn't do that.'_ Harry was now approaching Dumbledore's gargoyle. ' _We must bide our time, and strike when she least expects it.'_ An idea suddenly struck him. ' _I know! If fake my death, and then haunt her from beyond the grave!'_

' _We probably shouldn't put_ that _much effort into our revenge - unless we get a bad punishment, of course.'_

' _I'll make sure we don't.'_ As Harry approached the gargoyle, it moved aside without any request. ' _No one can resist my mountains of charismatic charm.'_

As expected, Dumbledore sat behind his desk among mounds of books and unrecognisable objects. Harry made his way over and sat down without invitation.

"Please sit, Mr Potter," Dumbledore deadpanned. "I assume you know why you're here?" he said in an exact repetition of what he had said the previous two times Harry had been called into his office.

Harry smiled sweetly. "I'm not quite sure, _Professor._ As far as I'm aware, I haven't broken any rules - unless, of course, you once again intend to chastise me for defending myself."

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable, completely still and tranquil. "Do you believe breaking someone's wrist in response to a harmless attack is self-defense?"

Harry shrugged. "It was her hand, not her wrist. And it was not on purpose, otherwise I would not have healed her."

"Not on purpose?" Dumbledore asked, his tone incredulous. "How do you accidentally break someone's hand?"

"Oh, I don't know." Harry stroked his chin, his expression turning hostile. "Perhaps it's an instinct burned into my being as a result of spending my childhood with every person who ever tried to hit me having the intention of ending my life. Or perhaps it's induced by the paranoia that I have to have, lest one of the Voldemort supporters you insist upon teaching decides to attack me." Harry leaned forward, resting his elbow upon the desk. "It sounds to me, as though both of those problems are your fault, rather than mine."

Dumbledore remained calm, and Harry decided he was now more akin to a storm's eye than any other description. So he continued, "How many times have you failed, Dumbledore? First as a guardian, and now as a teacher." No discernable change occurred within Dumbledore, but the air seemed to charge with energy. "Something tells me this isn't the first time, either."

The air grew thicker with magic, a suffocating tension that was almost tangible to one of Harry's senses. Naturally, Harry decided that the best thing to do was to further provoke Dumbledore. "How many more will die before you realise just how much of what happens is _your_ fault?" Harry cocked his head to the side. "I bet Lord Voldemort went to school here, and that you had a hand in making him what he became. Children have suffered because of you; children have _died_ because of you."

A glass upon table suddenly shattered, sending fragments of glass flying across the room. Harry's hand shot up to cover his face and let out a cry of pain as blood leaked from between his fingers. He was instantly on his feet and a moment later, Dumbledore was too.

"What the hell?!" Harry yelled, his hand going to his wand.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Save it, old man," spat Harry. "If you can't control your magic, how the hell do you expect to control a school!"

With that, he stormed from the office, and Dumbledore made no move to stop him. Harry made his way down the corridor looking furious. It was only when he rounded the corner did he allow himself to relax and the thin cut across his cheek to heal. He hadn't been sure that would work, but it had, and would hopefully prevent Dumbledore from bothering him for a while further.

Dumbledore would probably isolate himself from the students, if what Harry had guessed about him was correct. He wouldn't want to endanger them, remaining under the notion that he might lose control and injure them, like he had done with Harry. That was provided that he didn't discover he hadn't been the one to break the glass, of course. He most likely would not; even a wizard adept as Dumbledore wouldn't find Harry's magical signature when they were looking for a human's.

* * *

"So," began Harry, "what do the Slytherins _really_ think about me?"

Daphne's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I know Malfoy hates me, but he's a bit of an idiot, so I didn't think that many people would follow his opinions."

"Well, he's rather influential," Daphne said. "His father was one of those held under the Imperius by the Dark Lord, and was rather high up in his ranks. Naturally, Draco controls the children of those his father once ordered around. Crabbe and Goyle are the most obvious ones, but there are many others who follow him."

Harry frowned. "How many?"

With a shrug, Daphne said, "I can't give you specific numbers, but not many in the higher years, about half of our year, and quite a few of the lower years."

That was about what Harry had estimated. A lot of those people might've been faking alliance. While most Slytherins weren't actually very cunning, it didn't take much intelligence to suck up to someone rich and powerful.

Harry smiled. "And I suppose you're not one of his followers."

"No, as much as he'd like that." Daphne laughed. "In fact, he tried to ask me to the Yule Ball just the other day."

If that was anything but a suggestion to ask her, Harry had never heard one before. "Do you already have a date, then?"

For a moment, Daphne's lips twitched up into a smug smirk, but then it once again gone. "I'm afraid not. Why do you ask?"

Harry blushed - or pretended to, at least. "I-I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?" He had decided there was more benefit in going with her than there was if he went with Maria. At some point he had to make Daphne feel some genuine emotion for him, and the ball would an ideal opportunity for that. Going with Maria bore no good. He was already allied with her family, even if they were yet to know him as Harry Potter.

"Of course," said Daphne, once again concealing a smirk. She wasn't very good at and Harry was quite frankly befuddled as to how she had gained the reputation of being an "Ice Queen," with her emotions being so easily readable.

' _An affinity for ice magic, perhaps?'_ Loki suggested, his tone jestful. ' _Maybe that is why she seeks to manipulate you - to gain access to the mighty ice magic you used to slay the dragon!'_

' _Of course!'_ Harry exclaimed. ' _She is obviously a filthy mudblood in disguise, trying to steal our magics!'_

' _Bloody mudbloods,'_ Loki growled.

' _Muddy bloodmuds,'_ Harry echoed. ' _Or maybe she never talks to anyone, so no one ever sees her emotions happen.'_ He paused, thinking up an other idea. ' _Oh! I know! She married the Ice King! You know what that means, Loki; she's your stepmother!'_

' _Oh no.'_ Loki deadpanned. ' _Now you should probably stop staring at her before she thinks you're_ too _much of a weirdo!'_

' _Your wish is my command, Ice Prince,'_ Harry mocked.

He looked down at his wrist, silently weaving an illusion of a watch. "My apologies, Daphne," he said. "I have to go." He didn't, of course, but he didn't have the patience to play along with Daphne's crappy manipulation all day. That said, he did have another Greek-named girl who he wanted to _speak_ to.

* * *

Hermione strode down the corridor, the most confident she had been in the past few days. She had decided to report Harry Potter just this morning. She wasn't going to let him bully everyone who got in his way, simply because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He was no better than anyone else! If anything he was worse - a bully, a _brute_ who thought violence would solve everything.

He had threatened to harm her if she told on him, but even if he was powerful, Dumbledore was far more so. He would protect her. He would-

Hermione was torn from her thoughts as someone crashed into her, sending the books in her arms to the floor. She turned and glared at them, but they didn't stop, continuing on their destructive path down the crowded corridor. She briefly contemplated yelling after them, but didn't. She had seen a Slytherin tie, and the last thing she needed right now was to bring the anger of the Slytherin house down upon them. She didn't recognise the boy anyway.

Bending down, she scooped her books into her bag and continued upon her journey. A dull sensation arose in the arm into which the boy had bumped. It felt...numb. Thinking nothing of it, she started walking once again. A few seconds later, she staggered, and was suddenly feeling rather lightheaded. She made in the direction of the hospital wing, but as vomit rose in her throat ducked into a bathroom.

She stood over a sink, breathing deeply as she waited to throw up. The sensation of lightheadedness increased, and a moment later, she collapsed backwards, the world fading to.

She found herself surrounded by nothing but black, so dark a shade the air was indistinguishable from the floor. And then lupine, green eyes shone out from the eternal darkness, and Hermione cringed back in fear.

" _Hermione Granger,"_ a voice spat, resounding through her ears and mind like thunder, even though it was barely above a whisper. " _Child of two worlds. When you first came to the wizarding world, you were so excited, weren't you? You finally knew why you'd always been different - why everyone had always hated you. It was because of magic! Magic that you could do! So you came to Hogwarts with innocent eyes, a wide smile, and a longing to fit in - but you didn't."_

Hermione attempted to back away, but found herself unable, immobilised by both terror and an unholy magic holding her still. " _Here,"_ the voice continued, " _you are not only an outcast, but a_ mudblood - _a citizen who barely qualifies as a citizen, hated more than house elfs, a thief of magic. So you curl back into your shell. You promised yourself it would be different, but then you're back to your old ways -_ helping _people, and bossing around people who wanted you dead._

" _The best part is that you know you are condemned to remain like this forever; you will die a lonely death, either at the hands of a creature of intelligence inferior to yours or old age."_ A booming cackle rocked Hermione's world. " _There are a few correct things to do in this circumstance: change, or kill yourself. The first is too difficult for_ you _, but the second will be so easy; all you have to do is turn your wand upon yourself and murmur two words. Surely the_ most competent witch of the generation _knows the spell?_

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light exploded outwards and shattered the plane of darkness. A moment later it reformed into a blurry visage of white, which Hermione numbly recognised as the bathroom ceiling. Her dead arm now felt fine, and any prior illness was gone - provided you only counted physical, of course.

Perhaps that had been a dream? Hermione reached for her wand and found it absent. A glance around revealed it to be laying on the floor a few metres away. She moved to collect it, and paused in horror as she felt two words engraved upon the wood. _Avada Kedavra._

 **A/N: Sorry about taking forever again. Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Harry smiled at Daphne as she descended the stairs in her ball gown. "You're going to be the most beautiful girl there," he said, silently adding _if Fleur, Maria and a few others don't turn up_.

Daphne smiled, her cheeks slightly reddening. "You don't look so bad yourself." He, of course, already knew that. He was effectively wearing a black tuxedo, its shirt silk and green, and a cape upon his back. That said, he wasn't exactly sure whether he was _meant_ to wear a cape, but who was going to challenge the Boy-Who-Lived? Perhaps he would start a new clothing trend.

Casting that thought aside, he idly conversed with Daphne as he awaited the arrival of the other champions and their partners. It wasn't long before they arrived, Fleur and Cedric both with people Harry didn't recognise and Krum, surprisingly, with Hermione.

Why Krum had chosen to ask her was quite the mystery. He could've had almost any girl he wanted, but he had chosen the bossy bookworm who was slightly above average at best - and that was when she spent hours doing her hair and make-up. That said, she hadn't been very bossy since Harry had dealt with her; she was quite a bit timider now. Harry hoped she would remain like that, or he would be forced to deal with her again.

Even now, she glanced over to him. He smiled back at her without a hint of malice and turned back towards the doors, linking arms with Daphne as they prepared to enter the hall. It was not long before the doors opened, and they moved into the packed room, the others following behind.

The room was brightly lit, the floating candles slightly higher than usual, and some grand chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to help illuminate the room. Students already littered the tables, with a table at the room's head clearly set to host the teachers and champions. With the other champions and Daphne, Harry moved over to it, looking over the room.

Maria sat at a table with a boy from Beauxbatons that Harry was fairly sure he recognised from somewhere. ' _The ball at Aurelius Manor,'_ Loki said, and Harry nodded in response.

Maria appeared to be purposefully avoiding his gaze. He supposed that she was still jealous. She had been expecting him to ask her, probably.

Harry pulled a seat out for Daphne, smiling falsely at his display of chivalry. If he sought to gain her affections, it was best to treat her in ways that would make her naturally more inclined to liking him in combination with his other methods, which included _extremely_ weak love potions and illusions. The weakness meant she wouldn't ever notice any kind of discrepancy, for she actually had reasons to like him.

Now Harry had actually tried making potions, he had proved rather good at it, largely due to the fact that all he had to do was follow what were basically recipes. He could simply have Loki control his actions, which made his movements inhumanly precise and thus made making potions rather easy to make.

After going to Knockturn Alley and collecting a few books on the subject he had been able to make almost whatever he wanted, including a powerful hallucinogenic. That had been what he had used on Hermione, pricking her with a needle as he passed her and spectating upon her thoughts. All he had done was carve her wand; the hallucinogenic had done the job of conjuring her worst fear.

The illusion might've been a bit extreme, now Harry thought about it. If Hermione killed herself out of the blue, there would be only one culprit Dumbledore would think responsible. Dumbledore hadn't been interacting as much as usual with students in the past weeks, though had broken this to attend the ball. He sat at the head of the head table, looking completely ordinary, though Harry noticed that he was yet to look in his direction.

Harry barely listened as the other champions conversed. It wasn't long before the food was served, summoned to the table by house elves, and Harry ate. Only a short time later, Dumbledore stood, clearing his throat with a magical loudness. "Champions." His voice boomed through the room, yet it sounded completely normal, and Harry hadn't seen him cast a _Sonorous_ charm. "Would you please stand for the first dance."

At that prompt, Harry got to his feet with a smile. He extended a hand to Daphne. "Would you care to dance, Miss Greengrass?"

She matched his expression. "Of course, Mr Potter." Harry decided not to correct that he was, in fact, Lord Potter. Not everyone had as good a memory as Loki.

His hand holding Daphne's, Harry led her out to the middle of the dance floor.

"I do hope you know how to dance," said Daphne.

The music began to play, and Harry's lips twisted up into a smirk. He allowed Loki to push himself to the forefront of his mind. "Trust me, I do." He placed one hand on her waist, and the dance began.

It could have only lasted for three minutes, but Harry decided to ensure that he was the centre of attention. So when the dance finished, Daphne was left reddened with exertion and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The crowd applauded and Harry glanced across the hall to where he had seen Malfoy sitting. It had turned out that there had been some truth concerning his prior guess about Malfoy being envious, and the boy's expression was now twisted into one of anger as he ignored Pansy Parkinson, his date, who was trying to make him get up and dance.

With a smirk, Harry winked at Malfoy and turned back to Daphne. She was staring at him with something that appeared to be a mixture of awe and lust, or so he chose to think. He decided it would be much more effective if he were a bit taller, rather than almost the same height. Nonetheless, he carried his plan out, leaning forward and kissing her upon the lips.

A strangled gasp emitted from Loki. ' _Why the hell would you do that?'_ Obviously, he either hadn't been listening to Harry's thoughts, or simply hadn't had time to react to them.

Harry pulled back from the kiss, smiling at Daphne before walking over to a table. ' _Oh, relax,'_ he said. ' _Everyone thinks I'm doing it to make Malfoy jealous, and Daphne thinks I faked that to conceal my secret alliance with Slytherin.'_

' _And what, exactly, are the upsides?'_ Loki's tone was as exasperated as it had ever been.

Harry kept walking. ' _Well, it will make Malfoy and Maria jealous, which will be amusing.'_ He hummed in thought. ' _It will make Daphne like me more…'_

' _I doubt it; you're an awful kisser.'_

' _Oh, Loki,'_ Harry practically simpered. ' _You flatter me. I know I'm fantastic at everything I do, but I highly doubt that Daphne is_ that _filled with awe.'_ He paused. ' _Na, she probably is.'_

Loki sighed. ' _You just did it because you're a spontaneous idiot.'_

' _No!'_ Harry exclaimed indignantly. ' _...Well, sometimes.'_

' _What've you done with Harry?'_ Loki demanded. ' _No child raised by me would ever admit their flaws.'_

' _I don't see it as a flaw,'_ Harry said, now finally reaching his destination. ' _It just makes me...eccentric.'_

' _Like Dumbledore?'_

' _I'll have you know he's a powerful, but also insane and manipulative wizard - not weird.'_ He sat down in his chair. ' _So yes, like me,'_ he said.

Loki sighed. ' _Of course.'_ Now he sounded rather resigned.

Harry gave a mental shrug. "Hi, Maria. How's your evening been so far?"

She was a shade of red matching that which Malfoy currently was, from which Harry concluded she was rather jealous. Her angry expression only helped to confirm that. A Mafia princess probably should've had a better level of control over her facial expressions, but he supposed that she was inexperienced.

"Just fine," she said. Her tone was so forced that Harry almost laughed. A Mafia princess probably should've also had better control of their tone. Maria was _really_ bad at manipulation - worse than Daphne, even. "How has yours been?"

He smiled. "Absolutely fine thanks, though it's far from over. Would you care to dance?"

Maria's eye twitched, and Harry resisted the urge to snigger.

* * *

The Great Lake sat in front of Harry, glistening in the afternoon sunlight and quite frankly undeserving of its name. Its diameter could be half a mile at most, which wasn't exactly his definition of "grand." It would, however, make it easier for him to complete the Second Task.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the crowd, once again noting Daphne's absence. While he was preparing for the task, it hadn't taken him and Loki long to guess that they wouldn't, in fact, be stealing his money and throw it in the lake. No, the closeness of the Yule Ball had brought them to the conclusion that they would be taking the person they perceived the champion would miss most. And now, with all of the champions' partners from the Yule Ball - except for Fleur's, though she hadn't exactly seemed smitten within him - missing, their theory was near confirmed.

Was Harry worried? Certainly not. For all he cared, Daphne could drown; if he wanted to win the task, however, he couldn't let that happen - and he wanted to win.

In all truthfulness, the task had been terribly planned. All of the action would take place under the lake, so the audience wouldn't see any of it. Harry supposed it was more about the _atmosphere_ , but that too was stupid. Who went to a gladiator match and remained excited when they heard the battle would take place out of sight in the changing room?

It being underwater presented a whole new level of challenge for Harry. After all, how was one supposed to showboat when no one could see them? He had planned accordingly, and was fairly sure that, once again, his performance would be the most impressive, even if it did not earn the most points.

A supernaturally loud cough suddenly sounded over the ever-lasting chatter of the crowd. Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. "Champions! Please prepare to enter the lake!"

Harry had been spinning his wand between his fingers, and now pointed it at himself, vanishing his earlier-conjured clothes. Underneath, he still wore his enchanted clothes, though had charmed them to appear more like a wetsuit; not a difficult task when they already greatly resembled one.

As much as he might've liked to show off his muscles, taking the wetsuit off would risk him finding himself impaled upon the spear of a merman, which wouldn't be good. It left more to the imagination as well, Loki had said, which would make the fangirls fantasise all the more about him. Harry wasn't convinced.

He glanced to the other champions, who had chosen to wear simple swimwear rather than a wetsuit like his. For a moment, he was surprised that the clothes were so _ordinary_. Wizarding clothing was decidedly odd, even if he did like how it was acceptable to wear capes, and he had expected something like… He wasn't quite sure what he had expected. Waterproof robes? Giant Squid replica suits?

Those thoughts only carried his focus for a moment before he moved on to staring at Fleur's behind. He was torn from that as Dumbledore said, "Champions, at the ready!"

Now Cedric, Fleur, and Krum began to prepare, waving their wands over themselves. Harry did nothing.

"Three!" Dumbledore began to count.

Harry turned and walked away from the lake, back towards the crowd.

Dumbledore gave no pause. "Two!"

With a wave at the crowd, Harry turned back towards the lake, now standing about ten metres from it.

As Dumbledore began to yell, "One!" Harry was already sprinting at the water.

A cannon roared, and a moment later four champions hit the water; three slipped below the surface. Harry stayed atop. The roaring cheers of the crowd faded to nothing as he focused on the task at hand. To run on water, a human would need to run roughly around thirty metres per second - around three times as fast as the world record - or have very large feet. Harry didn't have large feet, no matter how many people claimed it had a correlation to the size of one's genitals, and also couldn't run at thirty metres per second without collapsing from exhaustion.

What he could do, however, was run at speeds still far exceeding those of humans, whilst also holding charms that would decrease his weight, and freezing the water under his feet. He wouldn't be replicating Jesus any time soon, but that didn't matter. This way made him look more as though he was actually in a hurry to rescue Daphne.

' _Now,'_ Loki suddenly said, shattering Harry's concentration like a pane of glass. That did not matter, however. Loki had been sending out his magical senses. A whole village of mermen would not go unnoticed, especially with the magic moving through water, and that was where Harry expected to find his hostage.

Harry let himself fall forward gracefully, and speared through the water like a...spear. The splash would hopefully conceal the brief moment he had emerged to cast a bubblehead charm. He had already applied his waterproofing charms, so the next time he entered he did not emerge once again. Instead, he kicked downwards, into the murky darkness.

Once he was deep enough that his vision was severely limited, Harry turned his wand upon himself. " _Videre Noxus."_ A brief pain flashed through his eyes before being cooled by Loki and a blindness descended upon Harry. After half a minute, Harry could see once again. Everything was illuminated in the signature green glow of night-vision.

What appeared to be a village sat below him. Mermen were dotted all about, wielding spears of unidentifiable materials. They were most certainly not the beautiful creations of myth, with flowing hair and pretty features and the tail of a fish. No, these creatures were all covered in ugly, blue scales. Their yellow eyes shone up at Harry, almost haunting, and his plan of using an illusion suddenly faded.

He would simply have to go in, and if they attempted to attack him, kill everything. He was perfectly capable of it, he knew, but Dumbledore would likely disapprove. Harry didn't want the man to poke his nose in once again. So down he sank, ready to draw his sword from his holster and spit out a spell as the first sign of any attack.

None came. The mermen simply watched him. From windows of shacks built out of stone, mermaids and children joined them, staring with eyes of eerie yellow.

Harry did his best not to be paranoid, but it was hard with what must've been a hundred pairs of eyes staring into him.

' _We're in water,'_ said Loki, ' _which means even you'll sense them before they attack.'_

Calming himself, Harry continued to the village's centre. Four girls floated in the water, each with hair a different colour and attached to rocks with rope. Harry recognised Hermione and Daphne. The Asian girl he recognised as Cedric's date, and the final one, a child with white-blonde hair, could've only been a relative of Fleur's.

For a brief moment, Harry contemplated taking a different hostage, either for a joke, or to gain the gratitude of a few Veelas. He rapidly decided upon only taking Daphne; once again, not wanting to antagonise Dumbledore was at the forefront of his mind.

Harry swam over to Daphne, cautious of any merman assailants, and cut the rope without a word, grabbing Daphne around the waist. He eyed the mermen once more, and then kicked upwards, towards the surface. But he did not break it, of course - that would be nowhere _near_ dramatic enough. Instead, he swam towards the starting point underwater. From the fact that Daphne wasn't dead yet, he assumed she was under some kind of enchanted sleep, so did not tamper with it.

When he was around ten metres from the pier from which he had originally jumped, he gathered his power. He muttered a powerful explosive spell, and heat and force suddenly erupted underneath him. He was shot up in the air, still holding Daphne tight, and arced through the air.

The pier shook underfoot as he landed upon it, and the crowd burst into cheers. At least this time Harry hadn't killed everything and forgotten what he was meant to retrieve.

 **A/N: I just watched all of Game of Thrones (about 46 hours) in 3 days. Just thought I'd tell you guys, so you'd know how immensely cool I am.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

A while after Harry returned from the lake, the other champions followed. Fleur was the first, though she was sobbing and hadn't brought her hostage back with her. Neither Harry nor Loki was very worried about her receiving a high score for the task.

After Fleur came Cedric, though it must've been at least ten minutes later. He, unlike Fleur, had managed to actually get his champion. Viktor followed not long after, also with his champion.

Daphne was yet to awake, and Harry had her taken away before she could do so. Dealing with her was something he frankly couldn't be bothered to do.

It wasn't long before the judges finally halted the bickering they had been partaking in and raised their wands, firing numbers up into the air for each champion. Harry had won, with Cedric in second, Viktor in third, and, rather unsurprisingly, Fleur in last. In the overall scores, that put Fleur in last, Harry in third, Viktor in seconds and Cedric in first.

After insisting to a medical woman that he was in fact fine, Harry had been allowed to leave. If they wanted to go, everyone was allowed home for the Christmas— _Yule,_ Harry reminded himself—holidays. With him being exposed to the magical world, there really was no longer a reason for him to conceal himself under illusions. Being in Britain would be annoying, however, with the public clamouring over him, so he decided to go abroad.

All of the official channels would be too long. Somehow, Harry doubted that the Ministry of Magic would want him disappearing back into the world for another eight years. Luckily, he knew Maria was getting a Portkey back to Italy, which was _coincidentally_ where he wanted to go. She was still annoyed at him, though, so he did what any normal person would do: he hunted her down, wearing the illusion of someone else, and then eavesdropped on her conversations until he found out that she was leaving at midnight that day.

That gave him the rest of the day to do as he liked. Or more accurately, what Loki wanted to do. That happened to be practising spells. In Lord Potter's book from the Potter Vault, there had been quite a few interesting ones. Some were subtle, while others swayed more towards the side of fiery explosions and mass destruction.

While Harry was yet to be informed of what the Third Task would consist of, he was fairly sure that a lot of the flashy spells would be quite impressive. They would also, however, be extremely difficult to perform. It had taken Lord Potter years and years to make them, and it still took him quite a while to use them.

They would be useless in an actual battle, except perhaps for starting it off. Then again, it was _extremely_ useful if you could start a battle by killing half of your opponents… Harry was still unsure he would even be able to use the spell to start a battle, however. When he had practised it before, it had taken him two minutes to build it up to his intended strength.

It was because if this he was designing a focus specifically for the spell he intended to use. Well, it wasn't exactly a focus, more of a grenade. Loki had admitted that he had, in fact, based some of the design on a type of magic grenade, though avoided the subject of which civilisation's design it was.

With all the intricate runes and massive failures, Harry found midnight creeping up on him rather fast. So he packed all of his belongings into a bag and made his way towards the Beauxbatons cabin. He didn't really want to bother saying his goodbyes; if Daphne was pissed off at him, he could just make up some crap about being exhausted from saving her.

With ten minutes to spare, Harry found himself outside the cabin in which Beauxbatons had arrived. Maria stood outside with a few of her friends, one hand resting on her luggage and the other holding a necklace. It wasn't anything fancy, and Harry didn't recognise it, but her grip was tight. A Portkey, then.

 _'Wait,'_ Loki said, halting Harry as he went to move towards them. _'She's probably still annoyed, and won't appreciate us riding along on her Portkey.'_

Harry nodded. People were supposed to like surprises, anyway. A glance at his watch signalled that it was nearly midnight and thus nearly time for it to depart—anyone making a Portkey would make it leave exactly on the hour. With Loki directing him, his timing was impeccable.

Maria didn't even notice he was there before he touched her arm. She had no time to look surprised before the Portkey activated and both of them were hooked upwards into a void of swirling colour.

It felt like an eternity before the ground rushed up to meet them. A numb cold washed over Harry before he had time to even think about throwing up. Maria, apparently also a poor Portkey traveller, had no such restraint. Harry shoved her off of him as she threw up on the floor beside her—the _marble_ floor.

Suddenly aware of his surroundings, Harry looked up—and found no less than six wands pointed at him. Marco was easy to pick out among the crowd of bodyguards, especially when he said, "Who the hell are you?" in English.

Even as Harry slipped his wand into his hand—just in case—he grinned. "I am Harry." He bent his magic until the blond hair, blue eyes and average facial features of his old illusion formed upon his face. "I don't mind whether you call me Harry Potter, or Harry Rossi."

Marco stood stunned, seemingly incapable of forming words.

The smell of puke reached Harry's nose and he glanced back at Maria, who had at last stopped violently vomiting. "As you can see," he said, "I've once again saved your sister from something. This time, the floor. I'm not quite as good a safety mat as I am a bodyguard, but I suppose it'll do."

With a flourish of his wand to clean the vomit from the floor beside Maria, Harry got to his feet. Still, the wands of the bodyguards remained aimed at him. He rolled his eyes and said, "Call off your attack doggies, Marco, lest they become…damaged."

Marco shook himself from his reverie and lowered his wand. The bodyguards followed suit. "We have to talk about this," he said. It had taken him long enough.

Harry waved his hands at Maria. "Shoo, girl." He winked at her. "The adults need to talk."

She looked primed to argue, but gave up at a look from Marco.

"You must teach me how to do that," Harry said. "She never shuts up when I tell her to—well, not the first time anyway."

Marco snorted and collapsed into a couch. "It will take years and years of training." He sighed. "Speaking of 'years and years,' it's been a while."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Not quite 'years and years,' though; not even a year, in fact."

"Long enough for me to start suspecting you were dead."

"Sorry about that," Harry said with a wince. "Some…" He hesitated, searching for an appropriate word for SHEILD "…people were looking for me, and I couldn't risk going anywhere near Italy. I assume the men who I just revealed my identity to won't tell anyone?"

"They'll be Obliviated," Marco said, running his eyes over Harry, who had returned to his actual form. "So you're really Harry Potter, huh? I never would've seen that one coming."

Harry shrugged. "Most people don't associate criminals with who don't look anything like them celebrities—especially celebrities famous for killing dark lords." A snort of laughter escaped him. "That would be like thinking every old man is Dumbledore. You should only suspect the crazy ones wearing brightly-coloured clothes," he said wisely.

Marco nodded, equally wise-looking. "And what if I wanted to spot myself a Harry Potter?"

"Well, to find Harry Potter, think of someone who is very powerful, intelligent, strong, charismatic, powerful, handsome, strong, powerful, attractive, intelligent and very, very, very good at referring to himself in third person," Harry said, counting off each word on his fingers. "Now disregard all of that, for Harry Potter is far too intelligent to let himself be found so easily. He is, in fact, far too intelligent to be found at all. Just don't try."

Marco rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure not to."

Harry gazed around at the room. Its walls were decorated with many a painting and portrait, though it was empty but for him and Marco. "Are your parents here?" he asked.

"Nope, they're no holiday. Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering whether or not to stay here."

Marco grinned. "Invited you to do that have I?"

"You'd never turn me down. I'm but a humble orphan, with no other place to stay," he said, matching Marco's grin.

Marco rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "I will consider your proposition. An alliance between the Aureliuses and the Potters would indeed be great," he said, his tone posh.

"Of course," Harry agreed. "I'm sure it would bring great prestige to both families. How would we go about creating such an alliance? Forgive me for my ignorance, but I am a lowly half-blood, after all."

Marco's grin returned, now turning evil. "Well, we'd of course have to set up a marriage contract." He cackled. "Who do you want, me or Maria?"

Harry frowned. "I can't have both?" he said, his tone mournful. "I guess I'll just have to settle for you, then. Maria is pretty awful in bed."

Marco seemed to choke on air. "You-"

"Don't look so surprised, Marco. She's had a crush on me for years, and is pretty attractive." Harry smirked. "Why do you think I decided to some back in the first place?" He sighed. "You're so innocent and naïve." With a yawn, he got to his feet. "Anyway, which way is Maria's room? I'm pretty tired."

He awaited no answer before strolling from the room, casually whistling.

 _'A fantastic performance,'_ Loki said. _'I feel as though it could've used a bit more cackling, though. And maybe a bit of greater detail to make him feel more uncomfortable.'_

 _'Maybe next time.'_ Harry hummed, scaling the stairs. _'Think I should continue with this?'_

 _'Most definitely; it's rather amusing. It would be more so if you managed to get Maria involved.'_

Harry snorted. _'And how would you just I do that?'_

 _'I don't know.'_ Loki hummed. _'Perhaps you should just go up to her and say, "Maria, I need you to sleep with me for a prank."'_

Now nearing where he knew from past experience Maria's room was, Harry said, _'Okay.'_

Loki seemed to be suddenly alarmed. _'You're not actually going to do it just to annoy me?'_

 _'I would never.'_

Knocking on Maria's door, Harry called out, "Maria, I need you to sleep with me for a prank!"


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

 _'I can't believe she denied me,'_ Harry said, waking up in his own room.

 _'Me either,'_ said Loki. _'I mean, how could she when your proposition was so subtle and eloquently put?'_

 _'Perhaps it was_ too _subtle.'_ Harry nodded to himself, laughing. _'That must be it.'_

Loki snorted. _'You are truly a master in the art of seduction.'_

With a slight yawn, Harry rolled out of bed. For a moment he contemplated unpacking his backpack, which sat in the corner into which it had been hurled. It took him a few seconds to decide that it wasn't worth the effort, and that Marco probably had nicer clothes anyway.

He wandered over to the cupboard and threw it open. Suits greeted him, lots of suits.

 _'Well,'_ Loki said, 'it _seems as though Marco wants you to look like a mini version of him.'_

 _'I_ do _look fantastic in a suit.'_ Harry grinned. _'Then again, I look fantastic in anything.'_

 _'Of course you do; you take after me.'_

 _'Except I'm normal enough to know that capes are only for formal occasions,'_ Harry said, beginning to get dressed.

Loki sniffed. _'_ You, _'_ he said, _'are not a prince.'_

A few minutes later, Harry exited his bedroom. He timed it so that Maria was directly outside the room at that point. He wasn't going to let her denial to go along with his plans ruin his prank.

"So," he said, sidling up to her, "have you finally decided to comply with my prank?"

Maria raised an eyebrow. "And what prank would that be?"

"Well, I'm making Marco think that we're dating each other."

A hint of red touched Maria's cheeks. "Why are you doing that?"

"It's funny." That was reasoning enough, Harry had decided. Maria didn't seem to agree, judging by the hesitance written on her face.

"Come on," Harry said, practically whining. "Isn't there _anything_ you'd like to get back at him for? Anything at all?" He hummed. "Or are you just still annoyed with me?"

Maria scowled. "What would I be annoyed with you for?"

"Well, not asking you to the ball, tagging along on your Portkey, and probably a few other things." Harry did his best to look apologetic. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Suffice to say, he was not—not that Maria would ever know.

"Fine," she finally said. "But I'm not jealous."

Harry nodded. "I never said you were jealous, did I?"

Red tinged Maria's cheeks, but she did not speak, for they were already arriving at the dining room. Harry noted that the hallway was conveniently long. That was one of the benefits of having a mansion, of course. Perhaps the Potters had one somewhere that they hadn't managed to somehow lose. Probably not. They would've most likely thought it too "purebloody."

Subtly, Harry moved himself closer to Maria as he entered the room beside her. He had to make their "relationship" realistic, after all.

Marco was already sitting at the head of the breakfast table, apparently reading a newspaper. He scowled as he noticed Harry and Maria enter together, but said nothing.

Breakfast was already lying out upon the table, presumably placed there by house elves—or humans, Harry supposed. The Aureliuses could certainly afford it, and most likely wouldn't be against having slaves.

In silence, Harry pulled out a chair for Maria, and sat next to her, his mind still occupied by the topic of slaves.

 _'Do you think I should get some slaves?'_ he said, beginning to dig into his food.

 _'Mortals are too unreliable,'_ Loki said. _'They tend to die when you get angry and stab them.'_

 _'I'm perfectly in control of my temper, thank you very much—I'll only beat them_ half _to death.'_

Loki snorted. _'I think you'll find the only reason you don't get angry about everything is because of my influence upon your mind when you were younger.'_

 _'And because I'm actually capable of dealing with whoever annoys me.'_

 _'That too,'_ agreed Loki. _'What I wouldn't have given to have that ability when I was younger.'_

 _'Somehow, I feel as though that wouldn't have gone well for Asgard…or Jotunheim, or Midgard—or any of the other realms.'_

 _'Have you no faith in my leadership skills, Harry?'_ Loki said, his tone dramatic. _'Have I not kept you alive all of these years, even with you making imbecilic moves at every single turn?'_

 _'Hey! Not_ every _turn!'_ Mock indignity burst from Harry's voice.

Loki gave a mental nod. _'Yes, I suppose you do occasionally make good decisions—like jumping out windows and leaving your wand behind because you thought it would be cool, or forgetting to collect your golden egg, which was the sole purpose of the task.'_

For a moment, Harry was silent. _'I was concussed both of those times. They don't count.'_ Before Loki could come up with a whole new list, he continued, _'Say anything else, and I'll do something stupid now,'_ he warned. _'And don't test me; you know I will.'_

Loki sighed. _'Speaking of your idiotic actions, we should probably learn how to Obliviate people.'_

 _'Probably, and we'll need it to cover up the trail of brain-dead people we leave whilst we're practising how to do it.'_

 _'Fine,'_ Loki conceded. _'We'll wait until we've won the Tri-Wizard Tournament and there's no way for us to be linked to any of our not-victims.'_

 _'Once again, I destroy you in a battle of will and wit. Are you getting old, Loki?'_ Harry deflected Loki's mental attack; it was roughly equivalent to a firm poke to the stomach, and blocking it was a matter of pride. Harry, after all, had to prove his superior will and wit.

After a few minutes, Harry decided that he was most likely unnerving Marco and Maria by not having moved in the last minute and a half, and called a cease-fire with Loki.

"So," he said with a grin, "what are we doing today?"

As he had been doing since Harry and Maria entered the room, Marco glared. And then he said, "Well, I've been meaning to speak to you two." His scowl grew more menacing, almost comically so. "You're apparently _dating_ , and I just thought it was necessary that I say something."

Slowly, Marco slid his chair back and stood, his expression dark and wand in hand. Under the table, Harry slid his own wand from his sleeve—just in case Marco did something rash. He was immediately aware as two guards slipped into the room behind him.

Marco moved from the head of the long table so that he was standing behind Maria and Harry. He leaned down between them, and menacingly whispered, _"Hysterus Steria."_

If it was a spell, it didn't work. Harry would have felt the magic react at such a close range.

"What?" Maria finally said.

Lips twisted into a malicious grin, Marco said, "It's a pretty good birth control spell."

Then he burst out laughing, and Harry followed a moment later. Maria looked too stunned and frightened to react.

"Why've you got to be such a crap actress, Maria?" Harry demanded, quelling his laughter. "It could've gone so well."

"Yep," Marco said. "But I was also notified that you were dating some 'Greengrass' girl."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And because I am a shining beacon of morality, you assume that I wouldn't cheat on her? Maria is hotter."

"And right here," Maria intervened, glaring at him.

"Are you never satisfied?" Harry asked. "I literally just said you were more attractive than Daphne, the girl you're jealous of."

Maria glared at him. "I'm not jealous; I jus—"

"Oh, hush, child," Marco said. "You are obvious as a Bludgeoning Curse to the face." He turned to Harry, grinning. "Let us leave the child here and go and do something."

Getting to his feet, Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course. Let's go and do mafia stuff."

"Mafia stuff?" Marco deadpanned. "Very secretive."

"Totally _not_ Mafia stuff?"

"Much better."

* * *

Harry waved his wand over his face, weaving a net of illusions over himself. It took a few seconds for his hair to lighten to blond and extend to cover his famous scar, and his eyes to darken to brown. The movement of his facial features followed a few further seconds later. The illusion wasn't permanent—not by any means—but it was good enough to last for a few hours.

"How the hell do you do that?" Marco said, looking rather envious. "You're obviously not a metomorphmagus, and I'm fairly sure that you're nowhere near good enough at transfiguration to do that without completely messing up your bone structure."

Harry sighed condescendingly. "My dear Marco, all that matters is that I am able to do it," he said. "And rest assured, I am most definitely able to do it without screwing up my exquisite cheekbones—or any of my other beautiful features."

Rolling his eyes, Marco said, "Honestly, you're vainer than Maria."

"Prettier, too." With that, Harry stepped out of the side alley in which he and Marco had been standing. "If I was a more nostalgic person, I might make a comment about how this is the place where we first met."

 _'It's not.'_

"Oh," said Harry. "The voice in my head has just informed me that this is a different alleyway."

Marco eyed him as though he was slightly crazy. "The voice in your head is correct."

 _'I normally am,'_ said Loki,

"He normally is," Harry said. "I think he gets it from me."

"Right," said Marco, drawing out the word as though he thought that Harry's claim was unfeasible. "Anyway, now you've got your make-up on, shall we get to what we came here to do?"

"I _suppose."_

Together, Marco and Harry strolled from the alleyway, and further into darker territory, into what would be best described as a rough Italian equivalent of Knockturn Alley. It wasn't long before they reached their destination, a brothel; they were not there as clients, however. No, if Harry wanted to get laid, there were a thousand other methods he could employ, and only a few of them included the Imperius Curse.

One would've thought that wizards, with all of their magic, wouldn't need a brothel, when they could go and snatch a few muggles off of the street. That, however, was illegal. But with a brothel, it was rather simple to claim that you hadn't known that the muggles were under the Imperius, and only the owners of the business would be committing a crime.

Understandably, businesses like these were generally rather sketchy, and ran by gangs and mafias, some of who were _not_ the Aureliuses, and thus their enemies.

"You go in first," Marco said. "They might recognise me."

"Coward," Harry muttered, but complied, and moved into the room.

Immediately, he and Loki were analysing each possible threat. Two large men were sat in seats on either of the door. Judging by the wands in their laps and the way their eyes lazily dragged over Harry as he entered, they were guards. Neither appeared to be paying very much attention, though. Both were slumped in their chairs, and probably on some kind of drug judging by the state of their pupils.

They were there for intimidation, no doubt, to stop a fight before it began. They likely wouldn't be very good in a battle, and probably would've never had a reason to fear one. After all, they had been in truce with the Aureliuses for quite some time. Harry was about to change that.

Behind the counter was a third man, tall and scrawny. That didn't make much difference when you were dealing with wizards, though, and by his eyes, Harry judged him as the one who would handle himself best in a fight. He would be the first to die, then.

There were two other men in the room, both shifting impatiently. Harry immediately judged them as clients.

Five on one were terrible odds in a small room. Luckily for Harry, it wasn't five on one.

He walked up to the counter, instilling his stride with false nervousness. The man behind it grinned, revealing rows of grimy teeth. "What do ya want, kid?" he said, spittle flying from his mouth. "We've got anything—even house elves if you're into it." He burst into laughter at his own bad joke, and Harry smiled.

"Funny. I'll have…" he trailed off. "BOOM!"

The man had a moment to look confused and startled before the front door exploded in a storm of splinters and magic. His surprise didn't last long as an icicle burst from Harry's wand and speared him through the heart.

Harry was instantly turning, _"Protego!"_ flying from his lips.

One spell hit the hastily erected shield and immediately shattered it, and another seared past Harry's head as he stepped to the side. He dived to the floor with a spat, _"Stupefy!"_ A bolt of crimson sprang from his wand and splashed against the chest of a client, halting his fumbling for his wand.

Another stunner burst from the doorway and hit the second client, abruptly sending him to the floor.

Harry dived to the side as a guard sent a sickly yellow spell at him, and returned fire a moment later with an icicle that the probably intoxicated man didn't have the reflexes to block. He turned to take care of the second guard, but was only greeted by an explosion of gore as Marco's Blasting Curse struck the man in the head.

The room was still as Marco moved through the front door. The rest of the building was undoubtedly sound-proofed.

Harry glanced down at his blood-soaked suit, and then to Marco's pristine one. He looked just a _tiny_ bit insane, and perhaps that would be an accurate description. He chuckled, twirling his wand between his fingers, and said, "It's good to be back to business."

 **A/N: So, this chapter is a** ** _tiny_** **bit overdue. The explanation is that I started playing the game Warframe again, and couldn't be arsed to write anything (not that I've been active on my other fics...). If your not satisfied with that excuse, pretend I just told you I had copious amounts of homework and/or I am having issues with...something-you decided.**

 **Anyway, I'm sorry if was random or seemed bad: I just needed to write it to actually move the story along, and was thinking about brothels (don't ask; I can't remember why) so here it is. I'm contemplating skipping the rest of the year to the Third Task, since it would probably be boring. Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

After Harry and Marco's "liberation" of the brothel, the rest of the Christmas holidays seemed to pass rapidly in a flurry of blood and snow. Mostly blood, though. All the snow had been created by a spell around the Aurelius manor to make it more atmospheric, and Harry _really_ enjoyed fighting.

By the time the Christmas holidays came to an end, Harry had decided that going back to Hogwarts was, quite frankly, a waste of time. And so he would remain in Italy, simply Portkeying to England should he be needed. Hopefully, he would not be, and he wouldn't have to step back upon English soil until the Third Task.

And since he wasn't returning to school, he decided it would be appropriate to mock Maria for doing so.

He wandered into her room as she packed her bag. There had once been wards, but they hadn't been very difficult to bypass.

Maria didn't hear him enter, and continued waving her wand around, sending clothes levitating around the room and floating into her suitcase.

"Couldn't you just get the house elves to do that?"

At Harry's voice, Maria started. She spun, wand raised.

Harry simply rolled his eyes and continued walking, not even bothering to draw his wand. He moved over to her bed and collapsed on it.

"Well," he said, "I suppose you need to practise packing bags. With a year of Hogwarts education, it's the most impressive job you'll ever have."

Maria glared at him. She seemed to do that quite often nowadays; Harry quite enjoyed it.

"In case you've forgotten," she said, "I'm rich."

"Yes, yes. I know." Harry yawned. "I haven't slept in four days, though, and you're not worth the effort of creating witty insults for."

Maria went to speak, and then closed her mouth and frowned. "Why haven't you slept in four days?"

"My imaginary friend kept telling me to sleep more to accelerate my growth into becoming a full-on magical alien, but I am going through my stage of teenage rebellion."

"Um…okay?"

"Anyway," Harry said, "I thought I'd come in here to mock you about your return to Hogwarts, but you seem to be in quite the mood about it already, so I'll just lay here and let you imagine me mocking you." He hummed. "I'd probably also make some lewd sexual comments about being in your bed as well, so think of a few of those."

 _'_ _You can think of some too, imaginary friend,'_ he said to Loki.

 _'_ _How about "would you like to sleep with me?" It's just as creative as your normal drivel, and you'll be able to make sarcastic comments afterwards lamenting the fact that it didn't work."_

 _'_ _Ouch,'_ Harry said. _'Someone's grouchy.'_

Loki snorted. _'Maybe I wouldn't be if you just obeyed my orders.'_

 _'_ _Hey, I'm just catching up on old orders of yours. Creating magical explosives is a great way to spend Christmas.'_

 _'_ _I would agree if they worked—they don't.'_

 _'_ _Trial and error, my friend.'_ Harry tried to be as condescending as he possibly could.

While Harry and Loki conversed, Maria ignored them—well, ignored Harry, seeing as she couldn't see Loki—and continued to pack. In turn, Harry ignored her. He continued his thinking upon how to create a magical grenade, and how it would be in anyway useful, seeing as blasting spells existed. Perhaps he could tether some spells from the diary of "Lord Potter" to it…

That was a good idea: the spells were immensely, devastatingly powerful and also nigh-on impossible to do when Harry was using just his wand—and even then they still took ages to cast.

Harry glanced up and saw that Maria had continued packing. What a bore she was.

 _'_ _You're like a child,'_ Loki muttered. _'Are you incapable of entertaining yourself?'_

 _'_ _I_ am _a child. And if I'm meant to entertain myself, what're you for?'_

 _'_ _I am not for entertainment—'_

 _'_ _And that's why I have to get my entertainment from others. If you were funnier, I would never have to talk to anyone—ever,'_ Harry said. _'You could probably also make some entire illusionary world for me if you wanted—like the Matrix. Why can't you do that, huh?'_

Loki sighed. _'I—'_

 _'_ _Too weak, I assume,'_ Harry said. _'I thought you were meant to be a god. Gods can create entire real worlds, yet you can't do a fake one.'_ Harry tutted. _'You don't even appear as an illusion anymore—too weak for even that?'_

Loki shimmered into existence, standing a few feet from the bed, next to where Maria was. Judging by her lack of reaction, she couldn't see him.

"No," Loki said, "not too weak. I just felt that you were no longer a child and, thus, no longer needed me to appear to you."

"And it also takes too much effort?"

"Yes."

Harry smiled. "I'm starting to believe that you're not actually anything like the old Loki and that I've rubbed off on you as much as you have on me."

"Really? I'm not _that_ stupid."

Harry picked up a pillow from the bed and hurled it at Loki. It went straight through the illusion and hit Maria in the head.

"Sorry," Harry said, unapologetic as could be.

Maria glared back at him and picked up the pillow. She hurled threw it back. With a flick of his hand, he grasped it with his magic and sent it flying back at her once more. This time, it caught her in the stomach and sent her flying backwards into the wall in an explosion of feathers.

She bounced onto the floor, groaning.

Harry eyed her. She would be okay. She let out a louder groan. Well, she would _hopefully_ be okay.

"See you in a few months," he said, and walked from the room.

For once in his life, Harry was telling the truth: the next time he saw Maria was months later, as he arrived at Hogwarts in preparation for the third task, which was three days away. His first line of business, of course, was talking to Daphne Greengrass.

Since he had left at Christmas, he had sent her a single letter, detailing how he was going on a quest oddly reminiscent of an Indiana Jones film he had been watching while writing the letter and, thus, would not be able to speak to her. He _hoped_ she had fallen for it. She probably would: she seemed to think he was as smitten with her as she was with him—and he hadn't even used a love potion on her! It was obviously just his incredible personality that attracted her. Not his immense handsomeness, money, or fame. He was the only one who could be that shallow.

"Hey, Daphne." He walked up to her and pulled her into a hug. She hugged back, satisfyingly: she had nice breasts—for a fifteen-year-old, at least. It also meant that she was still in _love_ with him.

 _'_ _Ah, yes,'_ said Loki. _'One of the many perks of pulling girls out of lakes, even if they were in no danger in the first place, and the only reason they're there is mostly because of you. Next time, just put her under the Imperius for a few seconds and then release her; maybe she'll think you saved her again.'_

 _'_ _Now is not the time for your rants about the stupidity of mortals again'_

 _'_ _Why? Do you want to demonstrate to her how much you've improved at kissing since you last met her.'_ Loki snickered. _'I'm sure that'll brighten her mood.'_

Harry pulled back from the awkwardly long hug, removing his hands from Daphne's behind as he did so. "It's been such a long time."

"Yes," said Daphne. "I really missed you."

"You too," lied Harry. "If what I was doing hadn't been so important…"

Daphne fluttered her eyelashes. "I hope you won't have to leave again soon."

 _'_ _Are you sure we at no point drugged her with some kind of love potion? Because this is kind of ridiculous. Or maybe someone else drugged her as a present for us?'_

"Yeah, hopefully they won't lose the Holy Grail again."

Sadly, the Holy Grail didn't exist. Harry _had_ looked for it at some point. Tracking down holy artefacts had seemed like an appropriate thing to do, when he was practising his illusions by entering the meetings of satanic cults and pretending to be Lucifer. Especially since a few of those occasions had resulted in multiple murders, not that they were Harry's fault.

Daphne smiled and nodded. Harry wondered whether it was possible that she had drugged herself so that she fell in love with him. That seemed like a pureblood thing to do.

"Anyway," Harry said with a smile, stepping backwards as Daphne attempted to touch his arm, "I need to go and check what the Third Task looks like."

With that, he walked away as rapidly as he could, lest she ask if she could come with him.

Harry asked another student where they had actually prepared the Third Task, and then headed out to the Quidditch Pitch, which normally held a sport with rules that were either too confusing or too ridiculous for him to understand. Now, the lush, green grass of the field had been marred by a network of hedged passages crossing over it: a maze.

After making sure that no one was looking, he subtly walked over to it and launched a fire spell at the side. The fire half fizzled out, and Harry was forced to dodge the rest as it came back at him. There was no burning his way out of this one, like he had in the Amazon rainforest or that corn maze last week.

He cursed. He would just have to use his _other_ method of cheating when it came to mazes, or as Loki called it: the Thor.

Three days later, the Third Task came. By that time, everyone was already well aware that Harry had returned to Hogwarts—he made sure to enter every meal as dramatically as possible. When Dumbledore—on the only occasion he had spoken to him—asked him to stop, he had simply said that he was practising his illusion magic, and, therefore, required to get better at trumpet fanfares.

As the champions stood next to the maze, the crowds were already cheering. Harry supposed that they had more of a reason to cheer here than they did when the champions were actually in the maze, where they wouldn't even be able to see them, except if they fired up the red sparks that meant they surrendered. Honestly, who designed these tasks?

In the centre of the maze waited the Triwizard Trophy. Whoever reached it first got it. The champion in first, Cedric, would get a five minute head start. Viktor, who was in second, would enter the maze five minutes after him. Harry would enter five minutes after him. Fleur didn't matter whatsoever, because she didn't have a chance.

As with the other tasks, the beginning was marked by a cannon shot created by a spell that Harry had mastered in his attempts to appear dramatic to the students of Hogwarts. Cedric sprinted right in, unaware of the tracking charm that Harry had placed on him a few moments prior when he had given him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

If Harry's other attempt at cheating did not go well, then Loki would be able to remember Cedric's exact path.

Five minutes after Cedric had entered the maze, Krum was signalled to follow. Harry had also put a tracking charm on him.

Five minutes after Krum's entry, Harry was signalled to go in. He, however, did not go blindly sprinting in. No, he jogged calmly over to the side of the side of the maze where it was directly aligned with the centre. Since the beginning of the task, he had been gathering his focus. Now, he released it into a spell of his own design.

He aimed his wand at the bracelet with a hammer charm hanging off it, and muttered, _"Anaccio."_ Then he adjusted his aim to a point in the sky. _"Anaccio Duo."_

Immediately, he was yanked upwards at speeds which would have immediately dislocated and probably ripped off the arm of a human. He soared through the air for mere seconds before he felt the spell end. With a flick of his wand, he adjusted his direction and was suddenly soaring downwards.

He managed to cushion his landing a moment before crashing into the floor, so that he instead impacted a bush, and then bounced to the ground. He groaned in pain.

"What the hell?" someone behind him murmured.

Loki quickly referenced the tracking charm. _'It's Cedric.'_

Harry didn't bother looking behind him, instead relying on the tracking charm to make his aim accurate as he raised his wand behind him and fired a silent _Stupefy._

He was rewarded by the sound of a body thumping to the floor. With another groan, Harry got to his feet and surveyed the scene around him. Cedric was sprawled on the floor, wand a foot from his hand.

And there, gleaming on a podium, was a shining silver trophy.

Harry grinned. "I am so amazing."

He wandered over to it and gripped onto the handle. Something yanked on his navel as the Portkey activated, the world spun, and suddenly he was in a graveyard with what appeared to be a bunch of KKK members who had forgotten which colour's supremacy they were meant to be supporting.

Harry swallowed and let the trophy fall from his grip.

 **A/N: Sorry about not uploading in almost two months. I...umm forgot? Was busy hunting down the Holy Grail? Na, I just got distracted and stuff. Anyway, tell me what you thought.**


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Loki was instantly alert. _'Anti-apparation wards are up,'_ he said. _'Judging by the robes and mask, these people are Death Eaters. There are fourteen of them around you; your options are—'_

 _'_ _I know,'_ Harry replied. _'Stay in the middle and hope that my reflexes are fast enough to make them hit each other instead of me, or get on the outside and do my best to disappear.'_

 _'_ _Which are you going to go for?'_

 _'_ _The former for a while. The second as soon as it becomes too strenuous, using our secret weapon as we do so.'_

"So," Harry said, "I don't surprise this is all actually part of the task and you guys are actually KKK members who have dyed your robes in order to prank me."

They were silent and still, remaining with their wands pointed at Harry.

He sighed. "Do you guys even know who the KKK are? My jokes aren't very funny when no one gets them."

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, carrying a bundle in his arms in the way one might carry a baby. Except this baby was hissing. "Harry Potter," it said. "Let me see him!"

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to see it. That belief was solidified as what appeared to be a snake-human crossbreed's aborted baby with red eyes was turned towards him. The thing opened its mouth to speak, and Harry suddenly realised what—who—it was.

"Hang on a second," he said. "Are you Voldemort?"

The thing looked angry. "I am Lord Voldemort."

Harry couldn't help it. He sniggered, and couldn't stop. For five seconds straight he laughed, and then immediately straightened and sent a blasting curse at the ground in front of Voldemort. As dirt was kicked high into the air, Harry was already spinning, his free hand unsheathing his sword from nothingness.

He darted forward, slicing a curse in half, and then someone's hand off, and then someone's head. Immediately, he was throwing himself backwards, his senses screaming for him to dodge the sickly yellow curse which went on to hit another Death Eater.

"Do not kill him!" came Voldemort's shrill voice.

Harry didn't plan on offering them the same courtesy. Three icicles burst from his wand every second as he spun and dodged between curses, the vast majority of them missing or smashing against shields, but some found their targets, each marked by screams or gurgles.

He spun between spells, reflexes superhuman. With the Death Eaters wary about hitting each other—they surrounded him in a circle—he managed to dodge most spells. The others, he could hopefully allow to hit: while he wasn't fully inhuman, stunning spells were designed to be just powerful enough to knock someone out without any further damage, and so they only made him drowsy.

Other spells didn't hurt him as much as a regular human, and at their lord's command, the Death Eaters weren't exactly throwing around strong spells.

Finally, someone acted smartly: they sent a spell Harry could not dodge or shrug off. A wall of force barrelled towards him and he only just managed to throw himself aside, but it still clipped him. As he spun through the air, he was already reaching for his waist, pulling out the secret weapon he had developed. With a surge of magic, it activated, and he hurled it forward, onto the ground where he had just been standing.

He crashed into the ground fifteen feet away and bounced, the dirt next to him exploding as a purple spell hit it.

Silently, Harry brought up a shield spell. Hastily erected, it blocked only one spell before a cutting curse nicked his arm.

And then the world exploded into a flash of light. Even as his eyes stung, Harry couldn't help but grin, knowing what was coming next.

It was a spell he had discovered in the journal of Lord Potter, too powerful for even its creator to cast without immense preparation. It had taken Harry a month of work to create a device able to store it and use it at a later date. It would probably take him a similar amount of time if he sought to ever replicate it.

Nonetheless, it had been entirely worth it to use it now. The flash was just the first part, and then came the immensely increased amount of gravity localised where the thing sat. Harry didn't see it, but he heard men scream as they were yanked from their feet and towards the device, helpless against its immense force.

Bones broke and flesh squelched. And then came the explosion. Those who had been pulled nearest to the device became pink mist. Those who had been slightly further out became body parts and blood.

His vision clearing, Harry climbed to his feet, grinning as he surveyed the broken corpses. No one had stood a—

His skin tingled and he felt his limbs lock into place. A moment later, he tumbled to the floor, sword and wand falling from his grip.

"Most impressive, Potter!" hissed Voldemort's voice.

Somehow, Harry didn't think it was a Star wars reference.

"Perhaps if you had not been so _arrogant,_ I would be a spirit once more." Voldemort's servant—Harry was unsure as to whether or not it was the one who had been holding him before—stepped into view. Voldemort had probably been able to shield them, even in that pathetic form of his.

"Prepare the ritual, Malfoy."

Harry was helpless as he was levitated into the air and tied to a stone statue. His limbs loosened, but his movement was still incredibly slow. And without moving his now restrained hands, he couldn't do any form of wandless magic that wouldn't result in further harm to him.

And so he did nothing as a boiling cauldron was filled with ingredients, Malfoy listing them off as though they were a shopping list. Nothing but desperately try to figure out a means of escape.

 _'_ _What the hell do I do, Loki?'_

Loki cursed. _'You're going to have to wait until you have full control of your body. Before that I cannot do much to help you.'_

A fear that Harry had not felt in years welled up inside him, as, for the first time, he was truly helpless, at another's mercy. It just so happened that the one whose mercy he was at hated him. Just his luck. Why couldn't he be kidnapped by benevolent people?

He was torn from his thoughts and Malfoy attempted to cut his wrist with a knife. Disregarding his fear as best as he could, he stared down at Malfoy, smiling as he failed once again to open his skin.

"Good luck with that, Malfoy," he said. "When I get out of here, I'm going to see how easy it is to cut your skin. I think the human body can live with over two hundred cuts. Shall we see how much I can prolong that with magic?" Harry bared his teeth in a grin. "When you finally bleed to death, I think I'll see if your son holds up any better."

Voldemort was apparently not at all phased by Malfoy's failure to cut Harry. "Use a cutting curse, you fool."

The first cutting curse failed. So did the second. The third—one that would likely take the wrist off a human—finally did the job, and Harry could only watch as his blood spilled downwards into the cauldron.

And then Malfoy lowered Voldemort Junior into the cauldron.

 _'_ _A body restoration ritual,'_ Loki murmured.

Harry paused. _'You're thinking that might work on you. Is this really the best time to be thinking about that?'_

 _'_ _No,'_ he admitted, _'but still…'_

Promptly, Harry stopped all conversion as a horrid sight rose before his very eyes: Voldemort. Ever so slowly, the man—if he could still be called a man—was rising from the cauldron, his pale, scaled body naked, bald head shining in the moonlight and eyes glinting with malevolence.

The newly-resurrected Dark Lord threw back his head and cackled. Harry felt his limbs become free once again. He would only have one chance. Voldemort was powerful, but hopefully, in his new body, he was also vulnerable.

Like he had practised a thousand times before, Harry, ever so slowly, began to weave an illusion about himself.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, moving up to Harry. Then he turned, exposing his back as he took his robe and his wand from Malfoy. "You thought you could defeat me."

"Actually," Harry said, "I didn't believe I could beat you. I only turned up here because of a dodgy Portkey, and, quite frankly, don't want to be here. That applies to the whole wizarding world, actually." He frowned. "If some idiot hadn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire, I wouldn't have had to be here at all." He glared at Voldemort. "Did you put it in there?"

"Yes, it—"

"At least it wasn't Dumbledore—and I asked _if_ you put it in there, not _why._ I don't need your bloody life story."

Harry spoke no further as Voldemort walked up to him and let his wand hover and inch from his cheek. _"Crucio."_

Harry didn't react. Only looked at him, his expression unchanged. If it had been a moment later when Voldemort had realised something was wrong, Harry would've gotten his spell off. But no, Voldemort was adjusting his aim downwards to where Harry crouched as the illusion of him flickered out of existence.

Voldemort would have finished his spell much faster than Harry. Luckily, Harry's wand could turn into a spear in a split second. And at such a close range, when it warped and elongated, it was suddenly through Voldemort's torso, angled to go through both his left lung.

Somehow, he still finished his spell, even if his aim was thrown way off, his spell crashing into the statue and bringing it tumbling down towards him. Even with a spear through him, Voldemort managed to stop it falling on him with relative ease.

Harry had no time to get his wand from inside Voldemort, and so he snatched Voldemort's from his hands before he could react. And then he did the only thing he could think off: ran towards the Portkey, ever praying that it was still working. Even with Voldemort wandless, Harry didn't doubt he was no match for him—at least not with him not having his own wand either, when he could apparently survive the destruction of his his lung and continue breathing.

As if in accordance with his thoughts, a spell rushed through the air behind him and forced him to dive aside. When he turned, he saw that Voldemort already had another wand, one with a hilt of shining silver—Malfoy's by the looks of it.

There was only one spell Harry could see working. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

He had performed the spell before, when calm and using his own wand. Now, neither was the case, and all he produced was a pathetic shower of green sparks.

After being forced to dodge another spell, he tried again. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

This time, it worked, and the spell flew true, heading for Voldemort with deadly precision.

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort dragged Malfoy across the graveyard and in front of the spell. It splashed against his chest, and Harry did not doubt he was utterly dead.

And then Voldemort truly began to try. Barrage after barrage of curses were let loose upon Harry, and he frantically dodged between them, shielded them or was forced to let them hit him.

He screamed as a cutting curse tore into his arm, and then another into his torso. If Voldemort had been using killing curses, he would probably be dead. Hell, the only reason he wasn't was the spear through him, its magical energy probably the only thing keeping him from magically yanking it out.

The spell that came next from Voldemort was rasped more than hissed. It shouldn't have been possible for Voldemort to speak. It also shouldn't have been possible for him to continue living. He did both.

 _"_ _Crucio."_

Harry had no time to contemplate such matters as his world became pain. Thousands upon thousands of fiery blades were suddenly tearing themselves through each inch of his skin, carving themselves into his very soul.

 _'_ _This magic is too powerful for me to numb with any amount of longevity.'_ Loki sounded scared. _'But he will not be expecting you to break free from it.'_

 _'_ _I'll only need a few seconds.'_

 _'_ _I hope you are right.'_ So did Harry.

As the spell relented, Harry was instantly up, three banishing curses flicking from his wand in just under a second and sending Voldemort tumbling backwards, head over heel.

He dived for the trophy, and in mid-air, yelled, _"Accio Malfoy."_

At the same time came, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Voldemort's spell struck the already dead Malfoy, and then Harry was touching the trophy and was gone, his world once again spinning.

 **A/N: Woo! Harry lost a fight for once-and got utterly wrecked, at that! You may have noticed I made Voldemort a bit stronger so this doesn't get boring.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Harry slammed against the ground and gasped for breath as the air was snatched from his lungs. The trophy slipped from his grasp, and he pushed himself away from the dead Malfoy he had managed to accidentally bring along for the ride.

He sent a silent thanks to whichever idiot had thought to make the Portkey go back to the arena—probably so that they could send his body back and strike fear into their enemies. If they hadn't, he would've been in a much worse condition. And with his wand and sword lost, clothes shredded, and skin gashed, there wasn't much worse a state he could be in whilst still being alive.

 _'_ _You have the luck of the gods,'_ Loki said.

Harry coughed up some blood and spat it into the dirt. _'No luck, just skill.'_ He coughed up some more blood.

He glanced up to see where he had landed, and found it not to be in the maze, but in a small stadium, crowds seated all around him. They had been cheering, but most of that seemed to have vanished, probably a result of the black-cloaked corpse lying in the dirt next to Harry.

With a groan, he climbed to his feet, cracking his back and casting his gaze to Lord Voldemort's wand, still in his hand. It was surprisingly fitting for him—much better than any other wand he had tried. Not his own, of course, but it was nearly as good.

He could feel Loki healing his body, and after a few moments, he guessed he would be able to speak without damaging anything too severely.

"Hello, audience," he said. "As you might have guessed from my ragged appearance—a state only the strongest of foes could inflict upon me—I just finished fighting the mighty Lord Voldemort."

The crowd was now silent.

"Anyway, although I totally and utterly kicked his arse, he still managed to resurrect himself, so he looks slightly less like a failed snake Animagus." Harry coughed up a bit more blood and wiped it across his shirt. "I killed his followers though—I mean, he killed them, accidentally. I would never do anything so immoral."

He kicked the mask off of Malfoy's face.

"I will swear under oath that Voldemort killed this guy, something Malfoy." He reconsidered. "Actually, I won't swear any oaths for the same reason that the gods don't reveal themselves to you. I need you to believe me because of faith, not some easily faked evidence that happens to take the form of a dead Malfoy."

 _'_ _Please stop rambling; I think you may have hit your head a bit too hard.'_

"My imaginary friend says I should leave…so…yeah. Bye, I guess."

With that final defiant statement, he marched for the exit. No one attempted to stop him.

As soon as he was in the castle, Harry took off at a jog, heading for his room. He packed his belongings in half a minute, and then was heading out the door—and straight into Dumbledore.

He sighed. "Hello, Dumbledore."

"Hello, Harry." Dumbledore glanced to the backpack on his shoulder. "You're leaving, I presume?"

"Yes, I think it would be best to go on a little vacation whilst Lord Voldemort knows where I am." He smiled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Not that I'm running or anything. I, a fourteen-year-old, am totally a match for him—who survived a spear through the chest, I might add."

Dumbledore sighed. "Hogwarts is—"

"—the safest place on Earth," Harry finished for him. "Someone just happened to manage to divert my Portkey to a graveyard in the middle of nowhere."

Dumbledore peered at him over his glasses. "I was actually going to admit that it is probably not the best place to be until I have had time to further investigate what went wrong."

"Oh," Harry said. He went silent for a moment. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll be leaving. I'll send a letter with the details of the encounter later."

"Of course." Dumbledore stepped aside. "But if you don't mind, how many Death Eaters were there?"

Harry walked past him and did not look back. "Fourteen," he said. His lips twitched up into a smile. "You won't have to worry about those ones—not unless you have a much bigger problem with ghosts than I originally thought."

 _'_ _I see my thorough beat down hasn't damaged my badass lines.'_

 _'_ _Of course not,'_ Loki said, _'but I somehow doubt those will help against Voldemort.'_

Harry snorted. _'Time for a training montage?'_

 _'_ _Time for a training montage.'_

 _'_ _I should probably get a new wand and sword, too,'_ Harry mused. _'Hey, you think I'm worthy of Thor's hammer?'_

* * *

Five minutes later, Harry walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, dragging the body of who appeared to be Alastor Moody in tow, his head bumping against each stair. He would have levitated him, but he was annoyed at the man—whoever he was.

The gargoyle standing guard to the office's staircase slid aside at an intimidating glare from Harry, and he continued up yet another set of stairs. He shoved Dumbledore's doors open and left the body in the doorway so the doors shut against it.

Dumbledore eyed the body oddly, probably looking to see whether or not he was still breathing. He was.

Harry marched over to the chair and sat down. Only now did Dumbledore see the wand spinning between his fingers and started.

"No," Harry said, "I'm not Voldemort. I just stole the bastard's wand. He stole mine, too."

Slowly, Dumbledore nodded, and then glanced off towards the apparent Auror on the floor. "I assume there is a reason you have come back and brought Professor Moody with you."

"Well, I decided that I needed to come back so you could give me a Portkey to Pompeii—you know, so I could find some ancient volcano magic to defeat Voldemort—and he decided to jump me; I beat him up."

Harry aimed his wand at the body and flicked it, bringing a flask flying across the room and into his hand. "It's got a potion in—I decided not to try and drink it—but I've got no idea what it is."

Dumbledore popped off the lid, sniffed at the contents, and frowned. "Polyjuice."

Harry recognised the name; it was a shape-shifting potion, one that Loki had explicitly warned him off using, lest he face the same fate he had whilst experimenting with shape-shifting. He glanced over to "Moody," who apparently wasn't Moody, just very angry, judging by the nasty things he had been yelling earlier.

Flicking his wand, Dumbledore levitated the body and brought the person hovering over to the desk. He conjured a chair and bound them to it. A spell later, and their features were contorting, shifting into another's.

The man was rather handsome, his features vaguely familiar.

 _'_ _He similar one of the tournament officials from the Ministry: Barty Crouch.'_

"Barty Crouch Jr; he is a follower of Voldemort, and is supposed to be dead," Dumbledore murmured, confirming Loki's guess. He waved his wand and woke Barty up.

He gasped for air and his eyes frantically leapt around the room. He laid eyes on Harry and spat at him.

Harry raised his wand and sent it flying back into his eye. "Be careful," he said, "or the next thing to find its way into your eye will be a knife."

Barty screamed and was silenced a moment later by Harry. "For God's sake, man." He waved his wand about in front of Barty's eyes. "You recognise this?"

Barty did, judging by the rising intensity of his silent screaming and increasing volume of spittle flying from his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. We all know just how much you want your dark lord's wand up your arse, but I killed him and took it from his cold, dead hands, so it's gonna be my wand up your arse if you don't answer our questions." He frowned. "When I say, 'my wand up your arse,' it's not in the way you're hoping."

"Yes, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice before he could say anything further. "I do not believe any more input is needed from you."

"So rude," Harry muttered. "Now can I have that Portkey?"

One of Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "I would've thought you would've wanted to stay for this."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry chuckled. "You clearly don't know me very well. I would stay, but I can't be bothered to torture anybody, and you're probably a hell of a lot better than me when it comes to invading people's minds."

Normally, he wouldn't be so open with Dumbledore, but he now likely thought of Harry as far more powerful than he had before: Harry had fought Lord Voldemort himself and survived—a feat that most could not claim. When you took into account that he had killed fourteen Death Eaters at the same time, it became all the more impressive.

No, Dumbledore would be a fool to go against him with the information he currently had. If he knew the true story—that Harry had run away as soon as possible—it would be very different. Alas, he did not, and Harry planned to keep it that way.

"Anyway, can you get on with that Portkey making? And this one better not leave me stranded in a graveyard in the middle of nowhere." He winked at Barty Crouch Jr. "That's where I totally killed Lord Voldemort, by the way. I doubt you'll have time to visit it and leave him some flowers before Dumbledore executes you as not to reveal that he is so incompetent he let a Death Eater pretend to be a teacher for a year."

With a sigh, Dumbledore murmured, _"Portus."_ The spell made a quill glow blue for a moment.

"Thanks," Harry said, picking it up. "What's the activation word?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "Peace and quiet."

Harry had no time to do anything further before the Portkey activated and the world around him became a void of twisting colour.

A moment later, ground solidified beneath his feet. His head spun as he glanced around. He was in Pompeii, as expected, standing amongst ruins that could've been as old as Loki. It wasn't likely there were any magical artefacts in there. He glanced into the distance, where Vesuvius peaked from layers of fog. There probably weren't any volcano monsters there, either.

Pompeii, however, looked like a place Harry might've wanted to go, and was in relatively close proximity to Rome, where the Aureliuses were. Whatever trust Harry might've had that Dumbledore wasn't planning to assassinate him, he certainly didn't want him to know where he was.

Accordingly, he did a quick search of himself for any tracking charms, and, not finding any, made off in the direction of where he hoped the nearest public transportation would be.

A few hours later, Harry was walking through the doors of Aurelius Manor. He moved through into the dining room and found it empty of all but Marco and what was probably his newest girlfriend. They were having dinner, and Harry marched over to them.

He turned to the girl. "I'm sorry, but I don't know your name. What is it?" She opened her mouth to speak, but he carried on. "Scratch that—I don't care. I just wanted to tell you that Marco is breaking up with you to be with me."

Her jaw dropped. She turned to Marco, who groaned and brought a hand to his forehead. "W-what?"

"It's true. Can't you sense the homoerotic tension?" Harry said. "He has a thing for fourteen-year-old boys. Now, if you don't mind…"

He pulled out his wand and sent a stunning spell into her side, and then pushed her out of her chair and sat down.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

Harry shrugged. "You have a new girlfriend every week and are probably cheating on another one with this one at the moment—it's against my morals, you see. I would never do anything like that." He picked up the girl's fork. "I'm also quite hungry and wanted her dinner." He paused. "It might have something to do with me enjoying being obnoxious. Or brain damage."

"For God's sake…"

"Anyway," Harry said, swallowing a mouthful of food. "I need to borrow a private army so I can go and kill a dark lord."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

A week later, Harry sat in Dumbledore's office. He was fully recovered, except maybe for some kind of brain damage that Loki suggested might be affecting him and probably wasn't helped by the fact that he ha0d just slammed his forehead into the desk in front of him.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked a concerned Dumbledore.

"No," Harry grumbled. "I had my plan to kill Voldemort all put together and now I find out that he's immortal—it's not fair."

Loki snorted. _'Life is unfair.'_ He paused. _'Perhaps we should've expected it—you know, from the way he resurrected himself after supposedly being hit by a deflected Killing Curse.'_

 _'_ _Oh, please. Any wizard skilful enough can survive the Killing Curse—look at me,'_ Harry said, sighing. _'But the way he took a spear through the chest and continued fighting should've probably told us something.'_

 _'_ _I can't imagine him using our blood in a ritual for a new body has exactly left him downgraded, either.'_

Harry groaned. "Continue, Dumbledore."

Despite the topic, Dumbledore smiled, peering forward at Harry over his spectacles. "Only if you promise to stop injuring yourself." And with that, he became sober. "As I was saying, I believe that Voldemort has achieved a form of partial immortality through a very dark and ancient ritual: the creation of Horcruxes."

 _'_ _Haven't heard of them,'_ said Loki.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his fingers forming a steeple atop the table. "Not much is known about Horcruxes. Throughout history, those foolish yet intelligent enough to successfully create them are few and far between. That number slims further when you take into account that many of these wizards have not publicised their newfound immortality."

"Are you actually going to tell me what a Horcrux is?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Essentially, Voldemort has torn pieces of his soul off and placed them in objects. If we seek to destroy him, those objects must be destroyed first. I believe he has made seven." Dumbledore reached into his desk and extracted a slim leather-bound book with a hole through the middle. "This was one of them. I destroyed it just over two years ago with the fang of a basilisk that had been plaguing Hogwarts."

The diary seemed normal, but for the hole through the centre; neither Loki nor Harry sensed any magical aura lingering about it.

"If not for it, then I might have remained ignorant of the Horcruxes. I was able to sense its magic and research it, and then destroy it accordingly. Rather conveniently, the only things capable of destroying a Horcrux are fiendfyre and basilisk venom."

Harry heaved out a sigh. "So, how do we find these Horcruxes?"

"I have been working on it. Alas, it has proven rather difficult."

 _'_ _Do not tell him,'_ said Loki, _'but I feel as though you may have been one.'_

 _'_ _What?!'_

 _'_ _The night I entered you, as you know, it was because I detected another spirit in your mind—one weaker than me who I was able to quite easily evict. One way or another, you are no longer a Horcrux.'_

 _'_ _Lucky me,'_ Harry said. _'I lose the cool dark wizard soul part and get to swap it for some weird, wannabe god.'_

 _'_ _From all of this Horcrux business and the fact that he looks like a snake, I believe that Lord Voldemort also fits into the category of "weird, wannabe god." '_ He paused. _'And if I am weird, then what are you?'_

Harry tuned Loki out and resumed looking at Dumbledore. "Anyway, why are you even telling me this? Don't you want to keep up your whole shadowy manipulator thing?"

One of Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows floated upwards and his eyes twinkled. "I must say, it is rather refreshing for one to be so open with me, rather than speaking of such things behind my back."

"Don't worry—I say lots behind your back as well. So does the voice in my head. Now stop avoiding my question, you shadowy manipulator."

As though a switch had been flipped, Dumbledore's expression became grave. "I did not want you to endanger yourself in a quest for the truth." He hesitated. "There is another thing I wanted to tell you…"

Harry motioned for him to continue.

"There is a prophecy concerning you and Lord Voldemort."

Harry groaned. "Really?"

Dumbledore nodded and reached into his desk, producing a crystal ball swirling with mist and handing it to Harry. As he touched it, a voice filled the room, echoing as though it was simultaneously coming from everywhere and nowhere.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Gently, Harry placed the ball back upon the table, leaning back in his seat. "Well…" he said, "that sucks."

 _'_ _I know,'_ said Loki. For a moment, he was silent. _'It didn't even rhyme.'_

 _'_ _Yes,'_ Harry deadpanned. _'That was exactly what I was thinking.'_

He glanced up at Dumbledore. "I'm assuming this is why I survived the Killing Curse?"

"Yes, I believe that is one reason among others."

"So, what are we going to do about this?"

Dumbledore smiled. "So eager to work with me, Harry? From our past tensions I would have thought you might think differently."

Harry waved him off. "I only didn't like you because you were a headmaster, or something like that. I have a short memory and hit my head quite often; I'm not very good at holding grudges—I mainly leave them to my imaginary friend."

"Of course, of course. Alas, I did not plan on telling you of the prophecy until much later on, but with Voldemort's resurrection and your battle with him, I thought it prudent to tell you now. And although you will be the one to strike the final blow upon Voldemort, I feel as though you should not enter the fray just yet."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I killed most of his important Death Eaters. Wouldn't the best time to strike be whilst he rallies his surviving troops?"

Dumbledore hesitated.

"Ah." Harry nodded in understanding. "You don't want me getting myself killed or captured."

Dumbledore nodded. "Your death would, understandably, be quite an awful tragedy."

Harry shrugged. "What can I say? People love me." He paused. "They're probably gonna love me even more when I save them from the big, bad Dark Lord Voldemort."

"I'm glad to see you're confident, but you mustn't underestimate Voldemort. From your account of the battle, you caught him off-guard and weakened." Dumbledore grimaced. "Voldemort will not allow that to happen again, and I fear that the next time you meet will prove fatal for you if you are alone."

Harry nodded; he knew it to be true. "Perhaps he will be weakened by the fact he doesn't have his wand."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, "though I do not find it likely Voldemort will let such matters prevent him from doing whatever he desires—not for long, anyway."

Harry decided it would be best not to mention the blood of Asgardians and Jotuns that Voldemort had used in his ritual. That would achieve nothing. He could only hope that it was hindering Voldemort rather than helping him—especially since Voldemort had his wand, which might work in accordance with the Jotun blood.

"So," Harry said, "you want me to go and hide?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said bluntly. "In the past you have proven rather good at it, and with Hogwarts' recent infiltration by Voldemort's agent, Barty Crouch, it is not the best place for you to be. There is, however, another safe place."

Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for Dumbledore to clarify.

"During the last war with Voldemort, I lead an organisation against Voldemort's Death Eaters." He smiled sadly. "Your parents were part of the group before they were forced into hiding by the aforementioned prophecy."

"My, my," Harry murmured. "Who would've thought that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts would ever break the law—do something so vile as to lead a vigilante group? Where do I go to report you?"

Dumbledore smiled again. "As the head of the Wizengamot, I ensure you that you can send your formal complaint to me and it will be investigated fully."

Harry nodded. "I'll send it to you straight away," he said. "What's your group called? You know, so I can put it in the report."

"The Order of the Phoenix."

The phoenix perched on a stand across the room trilled. Harry glanced at it. "Inspired by him, I presume. Or some tripe about rising from the ashes."

"Of course."

"And you want me to join your vigilante group?"

"Not particularly, but I would like you to meet some of its members."

Harry frowned. "Am I being used as a tool to raise morale?"

"In part," Dumbledore admitted, "but some of the members have been wishing to meet you."

"Of course they have." Harry grinned. "Everyone wants to meet me. I'm Harry Potter, killer of Voldemort, killer of dragons, killer of…too many other things for me to actually remember—that said, I don't have a very good memory except when it suits me."

 _'_ _Accept his offer,'_ said Loki. _'We may have Marco's soldiers, but we could always use more—people who actually have experience fighting Voldemort.'_

Harry nodded. "Very well."

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, a meeting is happening soon. While you need not attend, it would be a good opportunity to meet the Order of the Phoenix." He reached into a pouch on his desk and extracted a handful of shiny powder. Floo powder, Harry recognised it as, rather than fairy dust mixed with cocaine—Dumbledore probably did have some of that, too, though.

Then Dumbledore handed him a slip of paper, reading _12 Grimmauld Place._ Harry glanced at him questioningly.

"There is a charm around our headquarters, stopping anyone who has not read this from entering it or even knowing that it exists."

 _'_ _Advanced magic,'_ said Loki. _'I've never even heard of anything like it before.'_

 _'_ _Did you expect anything else from Dumbledore?'_

Harry walked over to the fireplace and lit it with a wave of his wand. Nonchalantly, he threw the powder into the flickering flames, turning them from orange to shades of green. He stepped in and yelled, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

The world rushed by him and he was suddenly in a dark void; hundreds of fires glowed amidst the blackness and an invisible wind rushed through Harry's hair. And then he was moving towards one of the fires and being flung out through it.

Though disorientated, he hit the ground in a roll, flicking his wand as he did so and sending a poorly placed table flying so he didn't crash into it. It smashed against the wall, exploding into splinters.

Harry moved to a dark corner and pressed himself into the wall as footsteps and yelling sounded through the house. He glanced around as he waited to see if anyone was coming to attack him. The house was covered in dust and looked rather old-fashioned.

Just as one of the doors leading into the room opened, Dumbledore stepped gracefully through the fireplace.

"It's you, Dumbledore," said a voice, its owner concealed from Harry by the door. "Sorry, we thought we heard something breaking…" He trailed off, probably noticing the smashed table. "What happened?"

Dumbledore glanced to Harry. "He did."

Harry stepped forward and waved. "Hi."

The man was rather thin and gaunt and pale. Wavy black hair hung down to his shoulders. His grey eyes were wide and his jaw hung open. "Harry?" He sounded as though he couldn't quite believe it.

Harry nodded. "And you are?"

The man rushed forward to hug Harry. He was so distracted that he didn't notice the wand poking between his ribs; if Harry hadn't lost his old wand, the man might've already been dead, an icicle through his heart.

"I'm Sirius Black!" the man exclaimed excitedly. "I'm your godfather!"

Harry had seen him mentioned, how he had supposedly killed a dozen muggles with one spell and betrayed the Potters. No matter how admirable the former might've been, the man was still a rather awful godfather—he had allowed Harry to be placed with muggles, for God's sake.

Harry refrained from mentioning that and awkwardly patted Sirius on the back, unsure what to say.

Finally, Sirius released him from the hug that might've been bone-crushing if Harry was human. "Come on," he said, still excited, "let's go and meet the others!"

Harry held back a groan.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

A week later, Harry found himself in Dumbledore's office again.

"Were you not supposed to be going into hiding whilst I tracked down the Horcruxes?" Dumbledore said.

"Well, I think I was actually meant to be in your Order of the Phoenix safe house, but following the rules isn't a habit of mine—especially when they include staying in a house full of people who like me about a hundred times more than I like them, and even the supposed mass murderer isn't an actual mass murderer."

"Most people would be pleased to discover their godfather hadn't betrayed their parents and killed a dozen people."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Most people aren't me—and mass murderers are much cooler than people who spend over a decade wallowing in guilt and _literally_ licking their own balls. I think Sirius is one of the few people I've met who's almost as weird as me."

Dumbledore peered down at him over his spectacles. "I'm sure. Now, is there another reason you wanted to speak to me, or did you simply come to gossip?"

"As much as I enjoy talking to you, Albus—it's refreshing that you're not as fanatically in love with me as your followers—there was indeed another matter I came to discuss." Harry glanced around the room. "I know where Voldemort is, and I'm planning to take him down."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "He still has his Horcruxes."

Harry smiled maliciously. "Don't worry—I don't need to kill him. I'm just going to imprison him in a place that he'll never be able to escape from."

He was absolutely sure of it—well, _near_ absolutely sure of it. What he was planning to do to Voldemort, nobody—no human, at least—would escape from.

"Can you elaborate?"

Harry leaned forward and grinned. "Now, tell me Dumbledore," he said, "what do you know of Norse mythology?"

* * *

Loki's memory was nigh-on eidetic. Even in the dark, with Harry fighting a dozen assailants and later Lord Voldemort himself, it hadn't been hard for him to pick out a few names on gravestones. From that, it had only taken a bit of internet research, and Harry had found the town of Little Hangleton.

He had, of course, later learned that Dumbledore had already known that Voldemort had once been called Tom Riddle and once used the Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, so all of his searching had been a complete and utter waste of time. Still, it made him look independent and therefore responsible, which he counted as deceiving people and therefore _not_ a waste of time.

Since his discovery of Voldemort's location—Riddle Manor—he had been planning and plotting his attack. He didn't want to wait for Voldemort's Horcruxes to be destroyed—to allow Voldemort to regain his power and practise with any new magic he might have stumbled upon due to Harry's blood.

No, striking as soon as possible was the best option with the prophecy hanging over Harry's head. He most certainly didn't want to die and stalling for any longer risked just that. And so he and Loki had devised a way of eliminating Voldemort that did not involve the long and tedious process of going around and systematically destroying soul-containers.

Then they had put their plan into motion. For a few days, they had spied on Riddle Manor; the coming and going of people dressed in black robes had confirmed Lord Voldemort's presence. In the meantime, both Harry and Marco's men had tracked down a few Death Eaters to interrogate and kill.

Their testimonies had ensured them that their intelligence was correct.

Marco hadn't brought many people—only a dozen: others hadn't exactly volunteered, and a lot of Marco's "employees" actually worked for his father.

And that was why, as well as the dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix, there were fifteen men dressed in black combat gear, assault rifles slung about them.

Dumbledore sighed, looking over them. And then said to Harry, "Have you _no_ regard for the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Oh, _relax,_ " Harry said. "These people are professional mercenaries. They don't tell other people stuff…except maybe if they get paid more." He glanced at them. "I haven't told them about Obliviation or anything, so you can do it to them afterwards. I wasn't planning on killing them, or anything."

For once, he was telling the truth. The organisation he had hired the men from wasn't one that you messed with. They specialised in the hunting and or elimination of superhumans and had many government connections. Harry didn't want to find himself going up against airstrikes. Or private armies made to kill people with superpowers, for that matter.

Dumbledore was still looking at the men, or, more specifically, their guns.

"Don't tell me you're morally opposed to guns!" Harry shook his head. "They're basically big metal wands with only one spell."

 _'_ _By that definition, most things are big wands.'_

 _'_ _Quiet, you big wand.'_

Dumbledore glanced at Harry, eyebrow raised. "I think you'll find, by that definition, most things are simply big wands."

 _'_ _What the fu—'_

"Anyway," Dumbledore continued, "this is not the time to be debating such matters. Lord Voldemort's fall will save many lives, and, as much as I resent admitting it, the killing of some of those who have chosen to join him is inevitable."

Harry decided not to mention that Dumbledore had just copied Loki's wording. It was a coincidence—probably, a coincidence…

He cast a slightly nervous glance at Dumbledore before looking to the horizon, where Voldemort's mansion was. "We might as well get going, then."

No more fighters would be arriving. There were probably about an equal number with Voldemort; no others would be able to get in once Dumbledore had torn down Voldemort's wards and brought up his own.

Harry nodded to the commander of the mercenaries, who went to rally his troops. Marco and Dumbledore followed the procedure with their own fighters. The wizards would be arriving by broomstick, whilst the muggles would be taking cars.

Harry leaned back against a wall. _'So, what do you think happens if I die?'_

 _'_ _You're not going to die,'_ Loki said. _'You're far too much of a coward for that—no wards will stop your escape. And then there's your massive amount of good luck.'_

 _'_ _Yes,'_ Harry agreed, _'good luck basically makes one immortal. Me being the Chosen One also probably has something to do with it; if there's a prophecy about me, that means I'm probably the protagonist of the story, so have lots of plot armour and can't die. That might explain how I pull off stuff I probably shouldn't.'_

 _'_ _What if Voldemort's the protagonist?'_

 _'_ _Na.'_ Harry shook his head. _'Protagonists are always attractive—snakes are decidedly unattractive, whereas I am basically an Adonis.'_ He paused. _'If the prophecy's true, I wonder if that means I am literally incapable of dying unless Voldemort kills me. If I can't die, perhaps I should just run away and assume a new identity.'_

 _'_ _Even if you cannot die, you can still end up being encased in concrete and dumped to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.'_

 _'_ _Yeah, that would be bad.'_

Harry was wrenched from his thoughts as someone placed a broomstick in his hands. He glanced down at it, still not entirely trusting that it would send him plunging downwards mid-flight. He had practised with it before, but who knew what would go wrong with wizarding engineering?

A few minutes later, the operation had begun. Twenty-six wizards rose into the air almost as one and engines rumbled. And then the wizards shot forwards into the sky, Dumbledore at the lead. They flew low, as not to be seen by any lookouts. It was the dead of night, and in a town like this, there weren't many people out; any who saw them would be dismissed as maniacs.

They neared the mansion in less than any minute, and hovered just outside where the wards were. Dumbledore waved his wand over them.

"They are strong, but not so much so that I will not be able to handle them." He narrowed his eyes, as though he could actually see the wards where there appeared to be nothing but air. "They will detect us as we pass through, and if they are not taken down now, they might be turned against us once we get inside."

Harry nodded. "Will they detect inanimate objects?"

"No, only magic or humans."

"Very well."

All conversation halted as too people came strolling from a side door of the mansion, clad in black robes. They would see the wizards, no doubt, if they looked even slightly to their right and upwards. The wizards flattened themselves to their brooms and stayed as still as possible.

Ever so slowly, Harry moved his hand to his ear, pressing a button on his earpiece. "Hawk, do you have eyes on?"

"Eyes on," Hawk, leader of one of the four teams the mercenaries had split into, answered. "Permission—"

"Permission granted."

A second later one of the Death Eaters fell. His friend turned to him, and after a moment found herself matching his position, a matching bullet hole in her chest. With how far away Hawk had been, Harry had barely heard the crack of his suppressed rifle, and the subsonic ammunition hadn't broken the sound barrier.

With a slight grimace, Dumbledore set to work, his wand carving intricate patterns into the air as his brow creased in concentration.

Harry marvelled at the sight. His knowledge of wards was…limited, to say the least. He wouldn't have had a chance at breaking those of a wizard as powerful as Voldemort. That said, Dumbledore didn't seem to be having an easy time with it, either. Sweat had begun to trickle down his forehead.

After doing this, Harry didn't think the elderly wizard would be able to match Voldemort in a fair fight. It was a good thing that Harry didn't fight fairly, then.

Ten minutes passed. A few more muffled gunshots cracked through the night, only just able to be picked up by Harry's enhanced hearing. He didn't see most of the victims. Everyone was tense. The cars carrying the mercenaries who were to come in with them had pulled up long ago.

And then Dumbledore finally slumped on his broom, breathing deeply. "It is done," he practically gasped.

The wizards moved forward, through where the ward had been and touched down gently on the grass, ditching their broomsticks. Ten armed men moved up behind them, the rest of them spread about on rooftops with high-powered rifles, ready to take out anyone in a black robe who decided to flee.

Dumbledore reached into his satchel and produced a wardstone, a slab of rock, smooth but for the matrix of runes carved into it. They were weaker than wards, more expensive to produce and far easier to destroy—you just had to damage the stone—but they were far easier to erect hastily, and Voldemort had probably already sensed something was wrong.

The runes of the stone glowed with a gentle blue light as it activated, and Harry felt a barrier form, stopping him from any attempts at apparition or Portkeying.

As soon as it was up, yelling started within the mansion. The fighters took that as their cue. They moved forward, the mafia, the Order and the mercenaries each forming their own groups, instead of sticking together like they were supposed to.

Harry and Dumbledore lagged behind.

"Are you going to be able to fight him?" Harry asked.

Sweat gleamed on Dumbledore's face under the pale moonlight. He nodded. "I should be able to…for a while, at least. I sincerely hope that will be long enough for you to do what you must."

A few more suppressed gunshots sounded again, undoubtedly picking off any Death Eaters who had dared step outside.

The fighters ahead began to mutter spells, disintegrating the wall—and then one of them was caught in the chest by a beam of sickly purple that tore straight through him.

Harry let the yew wand slip into his right hand, and his left found the replacement sword sheathed invisibly at his hip. Excitement mingled with nervousness and tingled its way up his spine.

The battle had begun.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

As the battle began to rage, explosive spells tearing into walls and bodies alike, Harry charged into the mansion, sword in one hand and Voldemort's wand in the other. He moved forward, sending a few quick spells towards some Death Eaters duelling beside him before evaporating a wall and moving through; he needed to find Voldemort.

A black-robed man ran towards him, raising a shield: he probably recognised it was Harry, the one had single-handedly slain fourteen Death Eaters at once. His shield did not help him as Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration for a few seconds, before waving his wand and instantly condensing and then freezing the water vapour behind the Death Eater into an icicle, and then driving it through his spine.

The man collapsed, shield flickering from existence and wand dropping from his hand to clatter against the stone.

Harry smiled. It had been a while since he had fought anyone one on one, and he had picked up quite a few tricks during his preparation for the tournament.

His senses screamed and he stepped backwards, narrowly dodging between twin beams of orange light. He turned and found himself facing two men, so similar looking they were probably brothers—cousins, too, knowing these purebloods.

 _"_ _Infriga,"_ Harry hissed, sending fourth a beam of light blue as he dodged to the side of a third spell.

His spell splashed against a shield as the second brother stepped forward to launch another spell. Whatever words were upon his lips, they faded as two bursts of gunfire roared, catching him and his accomplice in the torso and flinging them to the ground.

Harry nodded to the gunman before taking off at a sprint again, looking for Lord Voldemort.

He froze a wall and then shoulder barged through it, charging into a courtyard with a fountain in the middle. Two Death Eaters—they had been heading towards the battle—turned to face him a bit too late. Each caught an icicle through the throat and dropped like puppets with cut strings.

Harry spun and raised a shield, his enhanced hearing picking up the sounds of footsteps even over the raging battle. The shield caught two spells before breaking and he stepped aside the third, catching sight of the two Death Eaters attacking him—why, oh, why did they all have to travel in pairs? It made his job _marginally_ harder.

Concentrating as hard as he could, he dodged two other spells, and dragged his wand towards the Death Eaters. A shield shimmered into existence in front of each, but that didn't help them as the water from the fountain surged up to smash into them from the side.

Both were thrown to the cobblestones, half-screaming, half-drowning. Both processes promptly ended as the water that had made its way into their lungs solidified into jagged ice.

Harry strode forward, over their barely moving bodies and shattered a pair of glass doors. On the other side was some kind of ballroom. Where the hell was Voldemort?

 _'_ _If you were a dark lord,'_ began Harry, _'where would you hide?'_

 _'_ _I wouldn't_ hide. _I would sit upon my throne, my guard surrounding me and wait for those who have dared to invade my kingdom come to face me.'_

Harry snorted. _'The basement, then?'_

He was torn from his detective work as a sound much louder than any of others shattered the night, a mix of a roar and an explosion, followed by a massive serpent of crimson fire ripping itself from the roof of the manor and illuminating the sky. And then it plunged back downwards.

Harry swallowed and stepped back into the courtyard. _'Think that might be Voldemort?'_

 _'_ _If it's one of his followers doing that, we are totally and utterly screwed.'_

 _'_ _Let's hope Dumbledore has something to match that.'_

 _'_ _Right. Think I should go over, or just stay here and watch the fireworks?'_

 _'_ _If our plan is to work, we should probably be near them.'_

Harry sighed. _'I really don't want to get my hair burnt off—I just got it done.'_

 _'_ _You used a hair-cutting spell. Now go and watch the fight, you pansy.'_

With no more resistance but a sigh, Harry rushed through the building. A Death Eater—this one alone, his partner probably already dead, judging by his bloodied robes—charged him, and found himself decapitated by Harry's sword.

The two others he faced were caught off-guard and thusly hurled into a wall at speeds more than fast enough to snap their necks and cave their skulls.

Weaving between corpses, almost-corpses, and soon-to-be corpses (if they got in his way) Harry made his way through the huge manor and out of the other side, passing the massive hole in the ceiling from which the fiery serpent had exploded.

His prediction had been correct: Dumbledore and Voldemort stood on the lawn, locked in mortal combat.

Voldemort's snake-like features were twisted into a vicious snarl. He held two wands, Harry's in his left hand and another in his right. Blood stain his black robes, most of it not his own, yet there were a few bullet holes that had decidedly proven not to be too effective. A few more crumpled bullets lied at his feet, and a few mangled corpses in black combat gear lied behind him; he had probably killed the poor bastards without even looking.

Dumbledore stood defiant, Voldemort's antithesis. He held his wand high and his eyes were filled with steely determination, his face slick with sweat.

No one stood between them; no one stood _near_ them. No, they cowered at a distance, knew this wasn't a battle for mortal men. If they had been nearby, they would've been killed ten times over: the ground around both opponents was blackened and cracked and marred with craters.

Neither man—if beings who wielded such power could be called men—gave any ground, or even moved. They each stood still, but for the flicking of their wands. Each parried the other's attack without much difficulty.

When Voldemort's flaming serpent burst from his wooden wand, it met only massive watery shields, and when he flicked Harry's wand, the blizzards he summoned were decapitated almost immediately.

This was not the place for incantations, but for the most difficult of spells—the occasionally spat " _Avada Kedavra!"_ from Voldemort, each lance of green light countered by mighty stones being dragged into their path, or a flick of Dumbledore's wand raising mighty golems from the ground to take the lethal curse upon their chest.

Glancing away from the battle for a moment, Harry muttered, _"Infrigum Sanguo,"_ and idly froze the blood of the Death Eater who had been trying to sneak up on him. He glanced to the other corpses littering the battlefield. Other cries and yells and spells sounded throughout the rest of the manor, though they were almost drowned out by the constant explosions from the battle of the two titans before Harry.

He stood there, trying to decide what the hell he was going to do. His specialisation was catching people he was confident he could beat by surprise, and killing them before they had the chance to not underestimate him—fluking things tended to help as well. Something told him that his skillset might not apply well to this battle.

The fiery serpent burst from Voldemort's wand again, meeting a barrier of stone and earth that had just risen from the ground in an explosion of heat. And then Dumbledore staggered.

Harry spat out a curse; he had been correct about his prediction of Dumbledore not being in much of a state to fight. All accounts of their past duels had said Dumbledore was a superior duellist. Now, he was losing.

It became clearer the more he looked. Every Killing Curse came an inch closer to ending Dumbledore's life, and Voldemort countered his attacks with ever-increasing ease.

If Dumbledore died, the mission would likely die with him. Harry was no match for Voldemort—not like this—and he doubted any one of Dumbledore's or Marco's troops could claim to be, either.

After scanning around for any attackers—he spotted two of Marco's troops through a smashed wall and hoped Marco was already doing what he was supposed to—Harry burst into motion. He took off across the burnt earth at a sprint, heading straight for Lord Voldemort. He didn't doubt that Voldemort would notice him, so he yelled a spell anyway, as loud as he could.

 _"_ _Stupefy!"_

Voldemort brought one of his wands up behind him, flicking away the attack with contemptuous ease, while blocking one of Dumbledore's attacks at the same time. He must've seen it was Harry, for he turned, glee in his eyes as he hissed, _"Avada Kedavra."_

Green light flashed, and at this range, Lord Voldemort could not miss. Harry crumpled to the floor, and Voldemort barked a laugh out. Almost instantly, however, he was turning back to Dumbledore, so he didn't see as the illusion shimmered out of existence and the real Harry caught him around the legs in a vicious rugby tackle.

Harry tore his wand from Lord Voldemort's wand and stabbed it into his gut, standing in the same fluid motion and bringing his foot crunching down onto each of Voldemort's kneecaps, one after the other.

Voldemort screamed—probably more from anger than pain—and brought his wand upwards.

Harry grinned as icy power trickled through his veins, and sent forth an icicle. It caught Voldemort through the hand and pinned him to the floor. He writhed, and Harry only just had time to shield himself as a wave of kinetic force exploded from him.

Even if he blocked the brunt of it, Harry was still hurled backwards. He flipped in mid-air, landing on his feet. "Now, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore didn't need to be told twice. He had already pulled the wardstone from God-knows-where and now, he shattered it.

Harry felt the wards collapse around him and charged, two copies of him flickering to life. One was instantly dispersed as a blast of force caught it. And then Harry was on Voldemort, yelling, "Lemon drops!"

With that, the Portkey activated, and Harry's world became a blurring mass of colour. And then he was landing on the ground, in a few inches of snow—he was in Greenland, he knew.

Immediately, Harry felt wards burst into existence. He rolled from Voldemort, who screamed out a curse as he was struck by six simultaneous stunning spells. As though he was a dragon, they did not knock him out—only subdued him.

Upon noticing their tactics had failed, Marco and his men spat out a chorus of _Crucios._

As six simultaneous waves of pain slammed into Voldemort—a few from people who were almost professional at the spell—he could do naught but scream.

Harry nodded gratefully at Marco before getting to work. He surrendered control of his body to Loki, and the god was instantly alert, delicately carving Norse runes in the air, undistracted by the screaming and writhing dark lord behind him, who was now being struck by stunning spells as well as Cruciatas Curses.

After half a minute of intense and exhausting concentration, the air twisted and warped, a portal slowly forming. Beyond laid a realm of snow and ice, even more forbidding than the Greenlandic winter wasteland in which they stood.

Harry felt Loki collapse—or do the mental equivalent of it, at least, the ritual and effort of possessing Harry taking its toll—and took control back.

The men released Voldemort from their respective spells and Harry yanked him up by his collar, and then, with a nod to Marco, dragged him through the portal. He was greeted by a biting wind, colder than any he had ever felt on Earth; for a moment, it tinged his skin blue, and he moved to fix it, before reconsidering, his face breaking out into a grin. This had not happened before—Loki had been able to ensure that, but now he was incapacitated—and so he would have some fun with it.

He lifted Voldemort over his head and flung him. He spun through the air ungracefully and then plunged into the knee-deep snow. Harry strode forward, a predator's grin on his face.

He grabbed the dark lord by his robes and pulled him up so that they were face to face. Voldemort's red and serpentine eyes narrowed upon seeing Harry's ones of a matching colour, and his new blue complexion, runes across the surface.

Snow rose from the ground, slowly snaking around Voldemort and binding him to where he stood, locking his arms to his sides.

"What are you?" Voldemort hissed. Even in the face of defeat, he refused to show fear.

Harry cackled. "I, Lord Voldemort, am what you wish to be—what you will never be." He laughed again, and slammed a fist into Voldemort's gut, dropping him into the snow. He leaned down towards him, grinning. "I am a god, an immortal. And you may be a god among men, but among gods, you are but a man."

He decided to ignore the fact that Voldemort would utterly destroy him in a fair fight.

"No, you—"

"Yes, Voldemort! I will live forever—and maintain my beauty whilst doing so, unlike you with your technique, with those crude little Horcruxes."

Now fear flashed across Voldemort's face. He drove it away a moment later. "You have not found them!"

It was true, but Harry enjoyed lying. "Haven't I, Voldemort?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "I bring you here, to Jotunheim, the realm of the Jotuns from Norse mythology who you didn't even know existed, and you doubt me?"

"I—"

"Hush, Tom, I'm monologuing." Harry waved his wand and a winter wind slammed Voldemort's jaw shut hard enough to break teeth. "Anyway, as I was saying, I am a god—or perhaps something closer to a demon. And I am unstoppable. I defy impossible odds again and again, and have slaughtered trained wizards in combat since I was a child. The Killing Curse did not work on me, and I have defeated you once again." He smiled. "But feel free to test if your Horcruxes are still intact—go on, kill yourself and escape."

Voldemort only glared.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you going to even ask what god I am? Which name I went by before I deigned to take mortal form?"

Voldemort continued to glare.

"Ah," Harry said, suddenly remembering Voldemort's teeth were shattered and his jaw was probably broken. "Never mind, then. I do, however, feel inclined to inform you that, in mythology, Loki's daughter is Hel, and she rules over the realm of the dead. Use that information as you like."

The ice that had wrapped itself around Voldemort continued to grow over him until he was completely entombed, red eyes glinting behind a glasslike layer. Harry nodded cordially and turned away. The portal enveloped him and closed a moment later, leaving Voldemort alone to freeze. To die. And then to wander Jotunheim for all eternity as a bodiless wraith.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

His skin and eyes returning to their normal shade, Harry stepped through the portal and back to Midgard. He released his hold upon it, sagging with exhaustion and fighting the urge to collapse. Opening the portal had been a tremendous strain upon both his body and mind; he had concealed his fatigue when facing down Voldemort.

And what stress the opening of the portal had caused Harry, it had been tenfold on Loki; he was still unresponsive.

Harry turned to Marco. "I need to go back and tell Dumbledore that Voldemort is dead," he said. "I need you to come with me. In case you can't tell, I'm not in much of a state to fight."

Marco smiled and nodded, stepping forward and laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. His men followed suit and Harry activated the Portkey. The world spun and abruptly deposited them back on the blackened and scorched grass of the battlefield.

After taking a moment to orientate himself, Harry gazed over the mansion; it was completely and utterly wrecked. Bodies littered what once had been an exquisite lawn. All the windows in sight were shattered, and some of the walls were in similar states, leading to collapses in the roofs.

"I sincerely hope the Riddle family had insurance," came a voice from beside Harry.

He turned to Dumbledore, who smiled weakly. Harry's lips twitched. "I somehow doubt that it covers magical damage."

Dumbledore nodded, expression sobering slightly. "It is done?"

"It is done," Harry confirmed. "Voldemort is on Jotunheim. Even if he saw me open the portal, he will not be able to mirror my actions—no mortal could." He smiled. "The Ways will all be impossible for him to open, and the same is the case for almost all of the ice giants who might want to help him. Unless the Aesir deign to save him with the Bifrost, for whatever reason, he shall never escape that icy wasteland."

"Good," Dumbledore said, no remorse for Voldemort on his face. That changed as he looked to the mansion, to the bodies outside, and the others still being levitated over by the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"They died well," Harry said.

Dumbledore turned to him. "Is there an afterlife?"

"Valhalla is a myth, if that is what you are thinking of. As is Helheim. Alas, I know no more of death than any mortal man—it's where my brilliance comes to an end. I could pretend there's a Heaven if you like, though."

"That won't be necessary." Dumbledore looked back to the bodies. Death Eaters lay to one side, covered in black sheets instead of white ones, like the others were. It wasn't Dumbledore's idea, judging by the slight disapproval that leaked into his expression.

Harry glanced over the bodies, and felt nothing. He hadn't known them, whether they had been his ally or enemy.

A few Death Eaters were set apart from the rest, unmasked, their chests still gently rising and falling.

"Perhaps I should kill them," Harry said. "Knowing the Ministry, they'll get off easy, while we're arrested."

Dumbledore gave him a disapproving look.

Harry sighed. "Whatever. I suppose _someone_ has to tell everyone how terrifying I am to fight against." He frowned. "I know you're good at mind magic. Could you alter their memories so that _I'm_ the one who fought Voldemort, other than just being the one to heroically charge him at the end with no regard for my own safety?"

One of Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows floated upwards.

"Fine, whatever. Just say I was busy saving an orphanage of puppies from burning down or something, you glory hog."

" _I_ am the glory hog?"

"Yes.

"Of course."

"Anyway, I should probably get going, let you find and destroy the Horcruxes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, and perhaps we might arrange a meeting for next week?"

Confusion flashed across Harry's face. "For what?"

"You tell me of worlds beyond ours, that you are the demigod son of the god Loki, and you expect me not to want to know more?"

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Being a tour guide is below me. You can ask Vandr—oh, sorry, I mean Ollivander."

Dumbledore started in surprise. "Ollivander knows?"

"All Ollivanders have been the same person. He's four-thousand years old—an Asgardian if you hadn't already guessed."

"Really?" Dumbledore murmured.

"Yep," Harry said. "Tell him that I'll beat him up if he doesn't tell you what you want to know; if he doesn't look intimidated, tell him that I'm sorry and was only joking."

* * *

Harry pouted at Loki's illusion. "Please?"

"I've spent years perfecting your body. Altering your endocrinal system to make you grow from human to immortal without trouble. Tweaking your metabolism and muscle growth so that you so that you remain at peak fitness. Optimising your nervous system to give you superhuman reactions. Enhancing your senses so that you will always know of any threats. Warping your mind so you can perform spells with frightening ease." Loki glared at him. "I'm not going to allow you to destroy all of my hard work by consuming copious amounts of drugs."

"Oh, come on, Loki!" Harry said. "Muggle drugs probably won't work on me anyway—I'm almost Asgardian. Wizard drugs are probably safer."

Loki arched an eyebrow. "Is that so? With everything you have seen of wizards, you honestly believe that they are capable of constructing anything safe?"

Harry frowned. "Well…probably not. But they're also too stupid to figure out how to affect hormones or anything, so it'll probably only affect my mind."

"Because neuroscience is so much easier to understand than anything else."

"It is if magic is based on belief and you believe you have a soul. Wizards probably don't believe in hormones."

"Whatever the case may be, I'm not letting you unravel my careful woven threads."

Harry yawned, stretching out on his bed.

"I could probably simulate the effects of different drugs for you if you like."

Harry shook his head. "Nah, that's gay."

Loki paused, blinked, and then blinked again. "What?"

"Well, you'd be causing pleasure to me, and you're male, so that's pretty gay."

Loki blinked again. "Okay."

"Aren't you going to argue with me about how not-gay you are?"

"Unlike you," Loki said, "I'm secure enough in my heterosexuality that I don't have to argue about it every time someone speaks about it."

"Hey! I just like arguing!" Harry said. "I'll have you know that I actually hate gays, just like I hate all other immoral things—it's all part of being a god, you see; I have to turn them to pillars of salt and crucify them and so on, just like it says to do in the Bible." He paused. "Do you think Jesus was a wizard? I already pulled off the walking-on-water thing, except with running."

Loki sighed and shimmered out of existence.

"Fine, I sound a bit crazy anyway." He turned to the naked half-Veela beside him. "Am I crazy?"

She didn't respond. Probably because Harry had Stunned her for talking too much.

Harry frowned. "Perhaps I am crazy," he said. "Should I see a therapist? What would I be diagnosed with?"

 _'_ _Everything.'_

For a moment, Harry considered protesting, but then shrugged. "Not everything—maybe _nearly_ everything." He paused. "Yeah, antisocial personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, psychopathy, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder—do you count as another personality?"

 _'_ _I like to think of myself as an independent being, personally.'_

"Don't we all, Loki? Don't we all?" Harry stood from his bed, yawning, and strolled across the room. He flung the closet open and searched through, deciding that a toga of bed sheets probably wouldn't be formal enough to wear; people tended to be rather prudish about such things.

As an afterthought, Harry awoke the half-Veela that he had brought home after Marco's party last night. Marco had probably hired her to seduce him—probably so that he wouldn't attempt to sleep with Maria, or something, or as a reward. Harry didn't really care.

She blinked blearily. "What happened?"

"After our amazing sex, you were talking too much, and I was tired, so I Stunned you."

She stared at him, mouth wide open.

"Yes, yes, I know that I'm amazingly attractive." He winked at her. "Now, you're going to tell everyone you know that I was amazing in bed, a completely selfless lover and that I definitely didn't break any of your bones accidentally." He walked over to the door and flung it open, then looked back, flashing her a grin. "Or else."

With that, he slammed the door behind him and practically bounced down the stairs. He had dealt with Voldemort yesterday, and so he was in a good mood.

Harry moved through his apartment—he did actually have one, even if he normally stay elsewhere when he was in Italy—and into his dining room, and then promptly remembered that he would have to make any food himself and it, therefore, wasn't worth the effort. And thus the reason he preferred to stay with the Aureliuses.

 _'_ _How did you manage to become so lazy?'_

 _'_ _You raised me; it's your fault.'_

Loki sighed woefully. _'I have failed as a parent.'_

 _'_ _I'm sorry, but you can't be my parent, despite what I told Dumbledore'_ Harry said. _'I need to remain an orphan; girls dig that stuff and people can blame my rude arrogance—not that it's arrogance seeing as I'm_ actually _better than everyone else—on it.'_

 _'_ _Woe is me.'_ Loki sighed dramatically again. _'However shall I live with the knowledge that you, the only person I have talked to in a decade, would choose being an orphan over me?'_

 _'_ _Just don't cry or I'll have to laugh at you.'_

After a few moments considering what to do, Harry decided that it would be best to go to Hogwarts, to get breakfast, and settle both of the matters he sought to talk to Dumbledore about.

He couldn't apparate there, and hated doing that anyway. Luckily, Dumbledore had deigned to give him a Portkey "for emergencies." What matter could be graver than Harry being too lazy to cook anything and wanting to check what state his reputation was in?

He fished the Portkey out of his pocket. It was in the shape of an actual key. Harry took a brief moment to wonder what it might unlock before saying, "Sherbet lemons."

What could've only been seconds later, but felt like an eternity, he returned to reality, standing just outside Hogwarts' wardline. After glancing to Hogsmeade in the distance, he moved towards Hogwarts instead—they would still be serving breakfast at this hour.

The front door was unlocked, much to his disappointment. He had been looking forward to dramatically kicking or blasting it open. Instead he walked through like a normal person, and walked down the corridor, also like a normal person.

When he reached the Great Hall, he threw the doors open with superhuman strength. They crashed against the walls, not killing or seriously injuring anyone, and successfully drawing everyone's attention.

"Lord Voldemort is dead!" he bellowed. "Slain by my hand!"

No one moved. Everything was silent.

Harry scratched his head awkwardly. "Dumbledore's already told you, then?" He stared around the room; there were noticeably fewer people than usual. "Has everyone already left because of the national holiday in my name?"

Dumbledore coughed awkwardly from the end of the room. "The end of breakfast nears and most have already left. It may be better to discuss the _other matter_ in private."

Harry glanced to his watch, and then remembered he didn't have one. "Of course. Feel free to applaud anyway." A girl at the Hufflepuff table began to clap but abruptly stopped when no one else joined in.

Harry winked at her before moving over to the Gryffindor table, scooping some food onto a plate, and then wandering out of the room. As he expected, it didn't take long for Dumbledore to catch up to him; the man was surprisingly quick for his age, whatever might it be.

"I am yet to tell them of Voldemort's demise. I want to speak to the Ministry and the Wizengamot before I do that," Dumbledore said. "I assume that you are here for a reason, Harry."

Harry chewed on a piece of bacon, idly picking up another from the plate floating in front of him as he walked. "Yeah, I needed to ask you to make sure that the Ministry of Magic doesn't come after me for whatever reason they might want to—war crimes and so on." He swallowed a mouthful of food. "Oh, I also wanted breakfast and to ask you for another secret and probably illegal Portkey."

"To where?"

"New Mexico. My imaginary friend tells me that a god will crash there in a while and I need to be prepared for it so that I can kill him." He paused and then scowled. "I mean _prank_ him, _apparently._ Excuse me for thinking that anything involving molten lead and cereal is an assassination plot."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. Something had just happened—something massive. A massive pulse of magic had just exploded, and it wasn't human magic. No, but it was familiar, not exactly the same as before, but incredibly similar. He knew what it had to be.

 _'_ _Was that what I thought it was?'_ he asked.

Loki's illusionary form shimmered into existence at the end of the bed, grinning almost maliciously. "Of course."

Harry matched his grin and rolled from bed. A flick of his wrist brought his wand spinning across the room and into his hand. A few waves of said wand brought his clothes to him, too, and he yanked them on. He forwent the underclothes he had used to wear—he no longer had any need for them; no bullets would harm him.

Almost two years had passed since he had dumped Voldemort on Jotunheim and that had given him all the time he had needed to develop into a full Asgardian, albeit a weaker than average one.

Fully dressed, he moved over to the wall-to-floor window of his penthouse, picking up a broomstick on the way. Despite its slightly battered state, it was the most expensive money could buy—more expensive, in fact. A few months ago, Harry had stolen it, a prototype, from a German factory. As it turned out, Germany's engineering proficiency carried over to the wizarding world.

Like the British wizarding world, however, any proficiency concerning security did not. And, thus, Harry had stolen it because he could.

Harry brought down the wards for a moment, vanished the bulletproof glass, and, straddling the broomstick, floated out into the New Mexico sunshine. He replaced the glass, let the wards snap back into place, and hovered upwards, until he stood upon the roof. While his apartment was on the top floor, being a penthouse and all, he felt as though this was more efficient than blasting a hole in his roof. He had grown wiser.

Standing on the roof, he let the wind whip at his skin, and peered over the building's edge, gazing into the horizon as though there was a chance that Thor or his hammer had happened to land nearby, even though he knew it would land in the desert. Unfortunately, that along with the fact it would land in New Mexico within the decade—now, obviously—that was all he knew. Loki hadn't been paying all that much attention when he'd been here before, in the future.

That left him with only three-hundred-thousand square kilometres to search. Easy. Well, it kind of was when you had magic. It would only take a few hours, during which Harry would be forced to sit upon the roof and do nothing; he wasn't very good at this kind of magic—he liked destroying things and using illusions.

Harry clamped his eyes shut and sat upon the roof's edge, cross-legged. He drifted to the back of his mind and let Loki move to the front to do the majority of the work; since it didn't require anything physical, it hopefully wouldn't strain Loki too much. All it required was for Harry's senses to be enhanced. It was only taking so long because Loki hadn't needed to track such magic in years; Harry had never done it.

And so he let himself sleep—or let his mind sleep, at least. His body and actual brain were very much active.

A few hours later, he snapped back into consciousness.

 _'_ _It is done,'_ said Loki. _'I have managed to divine the exact locations of both Thor and his hammer, and will be able to continue to track them. The hammer was easy—it took minutes. Thor was considerably harder to find; he no longer has his powers, and magic only clings to him faintly.'_

"Of course," Harry muttered into the wind as he stood up. He stretched wide with a yawn, and leant down to pick up his broomstick. "Well, I suppose Operation 'Get-Hammered' is a go."

Climbing astride the broomstick, he took off into the day, locations burning themselves into his mind.

To say his broom was fast would be an under exaggeration. Admittedly, it wasn't exactly breaking the sound barrier. But still, Harry would've expected most wizarding technology to fall to pieces at such speeds, German or not.

He avoided Thor's location, and instead moved towards the hammer. He wasn't reckless, however, unlike normal; he had to be cautious if he didn't want to completely and utterly destroy the timeline. Whilst he had contemplated doing it, just because "it would be funny," he had ultimately decided that, no, he did not want to delete himself from existence. The universe would suffer far too much—or perhaps not enough—in his absence.

He touched down in the desert atop a hill a few miles from the hammer's crash site. Even from there he could see the white tents that had been put in place, as well as the black SUVs and sedans, and black-clad, rifle-toting agents. They were from SHIELD, he knew, the organisation he had tangled with when he was younger.

He cast a few spells on himself. One would make him blend like a chameleon—his own Asgardian invisibility was too difficult to maintain for a great amount of time. Another would make it so the muggles would just glance over him, unless he managed to draw too much attention to himself.

Finally, he turned his clothes into a black business suit, conjured himself a pair of sunglasses, and cast an illusion that would age him slightly, so he appeared to be in his mid-twenties. They were a backup plan; he didn't plan on being seen at all.

He buried his broomstick under a foot of sand and made towards the crash site, going over his plan.

He had an idea as to what he might do to Mjolnir as to prevent Thor from getting it, but he knew he couldn't do it now. No, that would mess up the timeline: Loki knew that Thor would manage to get back to Asgard with the hammer, so that he could destroy the Bifrost with it, thusly condemning Loki to his current—or future, if one looked at it like that—state.

Still, he could ensure that he got the hammer a bit later, when he no longer knew what was going to happen and therefore could do whatever he wanted…probably.

Harry reached the chain link fence that had been hastily erected around the crash site. With a flick of his wand, he separated a few of the bindings, making a hole big enough for him to move to the other side.

He crouched through the gap and fixed it once on the other side. Once he had reinforced his spells, he moved through, cautious and slow. He wished he could've waited until night, but he knew that wasn't an option: Thor would be there, and it would be raining—his footsteps would show up in the mud.

And so he persevered, moving through an entrance into the maze of white tents and slinking forward.

Two male voices sounded ahead of him, and he froze at the corner, praying to himself that his spell would hold. It did. The two men moved on past without as much as a glance in his direction.

Harry let out a breath he had been holding and continued onwards, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. With how slow he was moving, it took him a few minutes to get through the maze of tents, even though he could sense exactly where the hammer was.

Upon reaching it, he smiled. _'Think I'm worthy?'_

 _'_ _Yes,'_ said Loki, _'of course you are. Much like Odin, you are a self-obsessed psychopath who cares for no one but himself.'_

 _'_ _Yes, but it's Thor's hammer, not Odin's, even if created it.'_

Loki snorted. _'Odin probably stole it from the Vanir or somebody. And you're like Thor as well: arrogant, rash and idiotic.'_

 _'_ _Wait, so you're jealous of me_ and _Thor?'_

 _'_ _That's not_ quite _what I was—'_

 _'_ _The Loki doth protest too much, methinks.'_

 _'_ _Oh no,'_ Loki deadpanned. _'You have seen straight through me. Because of my childhood trauma, I am not as arrogant, rash and idiotic as I would've liked to be. Also, I am not blond, which I wish I could be.'_

Harry grinned. _'Don't worry, Loki. You are an idiot. That was a tautology, you see. You already said you wanted to be idiotic.'_

 _'_ _Alas, you have seen through me once more. You are truly a genius.'_

 _'_ _Surprising, isn't it? You know, seeing as though you were the one who raised me.'_

 _'_ _Will this torrent of insults never end? I have already been burnt to cinder, by your spoon-sharp wit.'_

Harry frowned. _'Spoons aren't_ that _dull. I could probably stab someone to death with one—like that time I stabbed someone with a baseball bat to see if it counted as a stake and killed vampires.'_

 _'_ _A side-effect of super-strength,'_ Loki said. The room was now clear of people. _'Now, speaking of super-strength, let's get back to hammer.'_

Harry nodded and made his way forward; it might not be long until someone came in. He put up a few muggle-repelling charms just be sure that no one did. Still, with how good SHIELD's reputation was, someone here would be enough of a genius to figure out they were being mind-controlled; he would have to work fast.

Luckily, this plan had been in the works for a while—stealing Thor's hammer was possibly the best prank that one could ever play; it would also make it easier to defeat him should it ever be needed. The plan had been quite a bit of work, involving Harry learning from Dumbledore how to make Portkeys, refining his ability to create portals and almost blowing himself up on multiple occasions.

Resisting the urge to touch the hammer—who knew what affect its magic might have on Harry's chameleon spell?—he removed a small magnetic strip, laden with spells, from his pocket and stuck it to the bottom of the hammer, near the handle. It was almost invisible; you could only see it if you knew what you were looking for. That might not be enough, though, so Harry melted the edges until it was completely flush with the metal.

With a wave of his wand, Harry short-circuited all of the room's cameras. And then he placed his finger on the now-melted metal strip and reinforced the spells which had been damaged by the hammer's magic and his own. A few seconds later, it was done, and he was collapsing backwards, invisibility dispelled.

Boots pounded in the corridor outside, rushing to see what had caused the cameras to go out.

Harry smiled and apparated away. A moment later, he reappeared on the hill in which he had buried his broom. He took a second to fight back rising vomit, before digging up his broom and climbing astride it. Now, all he had to do was wait until the next day.

* * *

Twenty-six hours and forty-three minutes later, Harry sat in a ritual circle on an island a few thousand kilometres south of Japan. Runes were carved into the dirt all around him, and he sat cross-legged, eyes closed, and jaw clenched in concentration.

He and Loki worked in tandem, weaving intricate threads as they steeled their will and used it to force their magic upon an item so far away that the distance was incalculable. Perhaps it was trillions of kilometres, or perhaps it was infinity.

They cared not; they had done it before, after all. Why would Asgard be very different to Jotunheim? Well, they worried that perhaps a magical item too strong would stop them. But, still, they did not halt their efforts.

And a moment later, it all paid off. In a brilliant flash of light, a hybrid of a Portkey and realm-crossing portal activated, and magic surged around them, exploding runes and flinging dirt everywhere. A metre in front of Harry sat his prize: Mjolnir. Luckily, it had not brought Thor with it.

He smiled and walked over, wrapping his hand around its handle and heaving with all his might. Nothing happened.

"Bloody picky hammer; I'd have you know I'd be a perfectly good king. I'm better than Odin in every way. For example, I'm fifty-percent less blind."

The hammer didn't respond.

With a shrug, Harry waved his wand at it, muttering, _"Nihilus Cadus Fieldo."_

Ever so slowly, the hammer rose into the air, the charred dirt around it following suit. Dragging the zero-gravity field behind him, Harry stepped onto his waiting boat and took off west, towards the Mariana Trench.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Harry idly tapped the side of his glass, watching as the liquid instantly froze, and then became solid again with the next tap. Vodka froze at a significantly lower temperature than human blood, so it was good practise—not that he particularly needed any practise with this kind of magic. With each year's passing, he became better at killing things.

Now, he was quite confident that he would be able to beat Thor. That said, he wasn't exactly expecting to ever _need_ to beat Thor. As far as he could tell, his revenge on Thor for causing Loki's "death" has worked. Mjolnir lay at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, coated in a dozen anti-summoning spells and fifty tons of depleted uranium; it had been there for over six months.

So far, no one had come looking for it, as far as Harry was aware, but six months wasn't exactly a long time to Asgardians. For all he and Loki knew, they might've been on Earth right now or coming soon. He might've been able to place Bifrost-detecting wards over New Mexico, but the world was a considerably larger area to cover.

 _'_ _Do you honestly think this'll work?'_ Harry asked.

 _'_ _Maybe. SHIELD found us twice before. They should be able to do it again if we expose ourselves enough.'_

 _'_ _Perhaps. I still think it comes at too great a price.'_ He sighed at his reflection. _'I mean I have to be_ blond _.'_

 _'_ _I'm sure that's horrible for you. But perhaps being blond part of the time for a few weeks is a worthy sacrifice if it means that we are made aware of threats before they attack us.'_

 _'_ _You know me, Loki; any sacrifice is too much for me—unless, you know, it's other people sacrificing stuff for me, like their lives, or blood or animals or babies. Makes me feel more godlike.'_

 _'_ _Well, you won't feel very godlike if you get killed by an Asgardian or a random alien.'_

 _'_ _Don't tell me what I will and won't feel.'_

Harry withdrew from his thoughts as the chair next to him was drawn back and someone sat in it. He glanced up and down the bar, seeing that plenty of the seats were free. Only a few people were in the room, sitting off in isolated tables and looking as though they were trying too hard to look normal.

He smiled and looked to the person sitting next to him. Much to his disappointment, it wasn't Agent Coulson. Rather, it was a suspiciously attractive red-haired woman—and that wasn't to say that he hadn't seen better dozens of times before; it was just that women attractive as this one didn't tend to hang around in seedy bars in Rome at four in the morning unless they were prostitutes.

This woman probably wasn't a prostitute—not one poor enough to be working in such a shady place, at least—judging by her perfectly white teeth and perfect skin and the multitude of weapons she was probably carrying. She practically screamed SHIELD agent.

 _'_ _Or maybe you're being paranoid,'_ said Loki. _'Again.'_

 _'_ _That wasn't my fault—the ice cream vendor was suspicious-looking.'_

Harry grinned at the woman. "So, you come here often?"

She smiled back at him. "I—" she began in Italian.

"Don't worry," Harry interrupted. "I'm not hitting on you. If I was, I'd be using one of my pick-up lines. I'd probably be saying something like, 'Hey, babe, is your dad in prison? Because if I was your dad, _I'd_ be in prison.'"

The woman blinked.

Harry frowned. "Do you not understand or something? I was implicating that if I had the opportunity, I would have molested you in your adolescence or childhood, even if I was directly related—"

"I understood."

"Okay. Did you understand the implication that I'd also molest you _now_ , as well? That's not a rape threat, by the way—I save those until they've rejected me twice."

From the way that the woman was yet to run away screaming, Harry guessed that she might be a SHIELD agent. Or was into this kind of stuff. Or was a prostitute who _really_ wanted to get paid.

 _'_ _I can hear a faint voice,'_ said Loki. _'She's wearing an earpiece.'_

 _'_ _Maybe she's talking to her pimp.'_

 _'_ _Turn away for a moment and find out.'_

Naturally as possible and still gripping his glass, Harry glanced at the other men sitting in the room, catching sight of a few earpieces. He somehow doubted that they were _all_ prostitutes.

 _'_ _I felt her put something in your drink.'_

Harry smiled inwardly. It seemed as though even SHIELD agents weren't trained to accommodate for superhuman senses—not super-hearing or super-touching

"Anyway," he said to the woman, "what's your name?"

She smiled at him. "Natalia. And yours?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Muhammad Lee."

 _'_ _That doesn't sound fake. At all.'_

 _'_ _I'm pretty sure they're the most common names in the world. Well, it's either Lee or Wang as the most common surname, but Muhammad Wang would just sound silly.'_

"I know what you're thinking," Harry said. "Why is a white guy who speaks perfect Italian called Muhammad Wang? I mean, 'why is a white guy who speaks perfect Italian called Muhammad Lee?' Well, the answer is that I was conceived during a foursome including my mother, a white guy, an Arab, and a Chinese guy, and since I came out white, my mother felt the need to include the others, too, but didn't know their names, so guessed."

Harry smiled, picked up his drugged drink and gulped it all down. He felt anti-apparation wards appear as someone activated a wardstone. _'What's in the drink?'_

Loki was silent for a moment. _'A powerful sedative. It would take a normal person down in about ten seconds. It won't affect you, but I will help you simulate its effects so we are captured successfully.'_

Natalia still wasn't looking very scared. She was definitely a SHIELD agent. Or a weirdo. "That's…interesting."

"I am very interesting—eccentric, too. It distracts people and makes them underestimate me."

Harry surged forward before the woman could react, grabbed her by the hair, and smashed her face against the bar. In the same move, he flung his glass across the room with deadly accuracy, shattering it against another agent's head.

He ducked as someone attempted to tackle him, letting them crash against the bar before picking them up by their shirt and throwing them into another attacker. He grabbed a beer bottle by its neck and dashed forward again, smashing it on a man's forehead. He went to stab him in the gut with it but stopped—he didn't want SHIELD to be _too_ angry at him.

Instead, he dropped the bottle and faked a stagger—even if he was a "metahuman," the drug should've been affecting him by now. Two taser barbs caught him in the back and he tensed as a wave of electricity pulsed through him. Neither he nor Loki did anything to counter it, so he collapsed stiffly to the ground.

After a few moments, he closed his eyes and let himself go limp. Combat boots pounded against the floor and his arms were pulled up behind his back before being clamped in a pair of handcuffs that would've taken him about half a second to escape from.

* * *

It took seven and a half minutes for Harry to grow bored of pretending to be unconscious whilst idly listening to the American-accented English around him. He resisted the urge to break out of his cuffs and massacre everyone in a blizzard of icy power, and instead drifted off into his own thoughts and let Loki keep an eye on things.

A few hours later, after a car ride and a helicopter ride, Loki nudged Harry back into consciousness.

 _'_ _We are at a high altitude,'_ Loki said. _'I am not sure what we are in, though. It does not feel like a plane, but there is very minor movement that would not be found if we were in a high-up or tall building.'_

Harry probed around for wards. The anti-apparition wardstone was nearby. There were no others—nothing would be able to stop him from using the Portkey embedded in his left forearm. These people most definitely didn't know he was a wizard.

After making sure that his illusions were still intact, Harry opened his eyes. He was sitting in a metal chair, and handcuffed to a table, in a room with all of its walls made up of black hexagons.

And in front of him was the reason that Loki had awoken him: a man in a black suit, Agent of SHIELD, Phil Coulson.

"Hello again, Mr Coulson. This time, I feel obliged to tell you that I'm going to escape in"—Harry glanced at his watch and then remembered he didn't own one and they would've confiscated it anyway—"two minutes and thirty-three seconds."

Coulson raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably not. It just seemed like a cool thing to say."

"Of course. And I feel obliged to tell _you_ , that should you attempt to harm me—"

"I will be torn to shreds by a pack of bald eagles?"

Coulson paused. "What?"

"Oh, sorry, I meant a _convocation_ of eagles. All of these bird plurals confuse me."

"That's not what I was asking about."

"Well, the bit about them tearing me to shreds was hyperbole. They'll probably only maim me."

"You don't seem to be very worried about being captured."

Harry grinned. "That's because I'm not worried. You see, me saying that I was called Muhammad Lee was actually me concealing my real identity, who is more than capable of escaping SHIELD."

"And what is your real identity?"

"Muhammad Ali."

Coulson was silent.

Harry sighed. "Fine, I'm not _really_ Muhammad Ali. I'm actually the reincarnation—"

"Anyway, getting back on topic. You were discovered by SHIELD because you were—"

"Yes, yes, I know. Using my _cool_ powers to kill gangsters in Rome who didn't think I was _cool_ enough to join their gangs. And because of said _cool_ powers, you want to recruit me to the Avenger's Initiative."

Coulson seemed to be actively avoiding looking surprised.

"Oh, don't be so shocked," Harry said. "You didn't think that I randomly began to kill random gangsters again in the same place a few years after you almost caught me? Even I know that's stupid, and I've gotten brain damage so many times that I've gotten brain damage so that I don't remember whether or not I've gotten brain damage before."

Coulson glanced at the roof where Harry didn't doubt there was a security camera.

He turned around and waved at it. "Anyway, I wanted to get caught, so that I could become a semi-member of the Avenger's Initiative. I know it is meant to combat extra-terrestrial and super-supernatural threats, and I don't want those killing me either. So I want to make a deal that whenever aliens turn up—especially those Asgardian wankers—you call me. If the threat is big enough, I'll reveal my true power."

He let broken handcuffs fall off and wandlessly conjured a piece of paper and a pen, and then scrawled down a phone number. Tracking it wouldn't work—he had managed to create a small portal, so to speak, so the phone actually connected to a random radio tower in the middle of rural New Zealand, no matter where it was. And if they happened to damage said radio tower…well, they would get to "test" his homemade explosives.

He glanced at his wrist. "Well, look at the time. I've been awake for two minutes and thirty-three seconds—around that, anyway. I best be going. Addio, Coulson. Sherbet lemons."

Before Coulson had any time to ask what Harry was talking about, his Portkey activated and he was gone.

 **A/N: Sorry about not uploading for over a month. I was already lost on what to do next, and then I smashed my laptop screen which kinda demotivated me even more so I couldn't be bothered to write. The screen is still smashed; I'm typing on a TV HDMI-corded into the laptop, which is kinda awkward. Nonetheless, I plan to stick to my schedule once again. No promises, though.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Harry picked up his ringing phone and checked the caller ID. "Hello, Agent Coulson."

"I—"

"Yes, it's me, He of Many Names, Wang Lee."

"Yes, I—"

"This isn't a false alarm again, is it? Last time, I got all dressed up—put on my cape and everything—before finding out that it was just your satellites screwing up."

Coulson sighed. "Don't you watch the news?"

"No, I find myself to be much more interesting."

"Well, the destroyed military facility that you would've heard about if you _did_ watch the news was ours."

"And who was it destroyed by?"

"An Asgardian threat."

Harry was silent for a moment, waiting for Coulson to continue. He did not. "Ominous and vague. Just my kind of thing. Pick me up at eight."

"What timezone?"

"I was actually joking," Harry said. "I'll be at your New York headquarters in five minutes."

"How do you know where—"

"I know all, Coulson."

For once true to his word, Harry was soon heading towards the SHIELD base in New York. _'So, who do you think the threat is?'_ he said. _'Thor, perhaps?'_

 _'_ _Without his hammer, I doubt he could do as much damage as Coulson implied had been done.'_

 _'_ _Who could've done it?'_

 _'_ _Odin, perhaps, using his spear, though coming to Midgard and razing things isn't exactly his style. I can't think of anyone else who could so it using pure physical power—Asgardians are incredibly durable, but not all that good at destroying things, compared to wizards and humans.'_

 _'_ _Maybe an Asgardian brought some explosives with them, or used the mortal explosives in the military base.'_

 _'_ _We'll just have to find out.'_

A few minutes later, Harry was arriving at the location of the SHIELD base. He knew—well, his not-so-reliable source had told him—that the base was mainly underground. It probably was, seeing as SHIELD was a spy agency, their logo was an eagle, and no one would think to look for an eagle underground.

Harry glanced up at the sign above the door of the address he had been given. It was supposedly a bank. Once again, the work of a cunning spy agency—who would look for an eagle in a bank?

Harry strolled in and walked directly over to the guard. "Hello, Mr Guard, can you direct me to the secret spy agency?"

Confusion flashed across the man's face. "What?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Am I going to have to shout? If I shout, the secret spy agency won't be very secret, would it? You see, it's so secret that I haven't even mentioned the name."

The guard still looked confused. "What, like the CIA?"

"No, the Illuminati."

"Look, pal, I don't know what—"

"Tell me where the secret entrance is or I'm going to rob the bank."

The guard now looked more alarmed than confused. He reached for his gun only to find his holster empty. Harry nonchalantly twirled the gun about his finger, jumping slightly as it fired twice, once into the roof and once into the floor.

"What the hell? Aren't guns meant to have safeties?" Harry cursed over the sound of people screaming and squeezed the gun until it fell to pieces.

The security guard turned out not to be much of a security guard—he turned and ran.

Harry spun as someone grabbed him by the wrist, attempting to twist it and disarm him. It might've worked if he were human. As it were, all it made him do was stare at the man, eyebrow raised.

A second man in a suit exactly the same as the first's aimed a gun at Harry.

"Hello!" Harry exclaimed. "I assume that you guys are the SHIELD agents—you know, because you have guns and suits. You could be Mossad, or something, though." He frowned. "I'm not sure why that's the first spy organisation to come to mind. Probably because you guys are gonna be _sad_ after I freeze off your limbs if you don't let go of me." Harry paused. "Man, I've really lost my touch—that was absolutely terrible."

"We were sent to retrieve you. We were warned that you were coming."

"Then why weren't you here?"

"You're in the wrong building. The base is across the street."

Harry glanced across the street; a simple-looking yet tall building sat there, unusual but for the eagle engraved above the doors.

 _'_ _How didn't I notice that?'_ Harry asked.

 _'_ _Well, we were given the wrong address.'_

 _'_ _Do you think it was an elaborate plan to get us to rob the bank?'_

 _'_ _Definetely; we should disguise ourselves as the contact and rob the bank to frame him.'_

Sirens blared in the distance. _'Maybe later.'_

Harry followed the agents across the road and into the other building. With them, he moved through the building, Loki mentally filing all of its detail, lest they need to break into it at a future time.

They made their way to the roof, where a futuristic-looking aircraft sat.

Harry glanced at the SHIELD agents. "Are we going to take off in broad daylight in what looks like a stealth bomber off the top of what is supposed to be an office building?"

The men glanced at each other. "Yes."

"Special circumstances," the second one said.

Harry grinned. "Glad I could be an inconvenience." He glanced over the edge of the building. "I assume it goes straight up, seeing as there isn't a runway." He held out a hand. "Wait! Don't tell me! I want it to be a surprise."

With that, he climbed abroad. Slightly to Harry's disappointment, the plane went straight upwards instead of driving forward and plunging towards the ground in a ball of fiery death and twisted metal. It rose for a few seconds before suddenly jolting and thrusting forward.

Harry leaned back into the seat and wondered if it would be a good idea to put his seatbelt on. He decided not to—it would be difficult to get changed whilst strapped to a chair.

* * *

"Hello, Agent Coulson! This giant floating aircraft carrier is the eleventh coolest thing I've ever seen. "

Coulson glanced over Harry's clothes and smiled. "And the tenth?"

"Well, you know what happens when you dump a ton of caesium into water? Well, imagine that inside someone's veins." Harry grinned. "By the way, you can call me Zeus."

Coulson paused. "Zeus."

"Yes, that's what I said. I'm a big fan of the way that he turned into a variety of animals to trick or force both males and females into sex."

"I…" Coulson trailed off, lost for words. "Come and meet the rest of the team."

"Of course!"

Harry strolled after Coulson. They moved through a few corridors until they reached a door. Coulson opened it to reveal a room with four people inside, three men and a woman.

They looked to the door as it opened. "Hello," Harry said. "I'm Zeus, and I'll be leading the team."

"No you won't," Coulson said.

Harry spun to face him. "Why not?"

"You're a criminal who doesn't appear to be mentally sound."

Harry blinked. "I'll have you know that my imaginary friend says that I'm entirely sane."

 _'_ _No, I don't.'_

"Okay, maybe he doesn't. I'll just sit down and pretend I'm not hurt, then."

Harry wandered over to a vacant seat and sat down. "Hi, guys, I'm Zeus and I apparently _won't_ be leading the team." He glanced over them and focused on the woman. "I know you—I never forget a pretty face, except when I do. You're the one who attempted to seduce me and failed when I smashed your face into a table. I'm glad to see that your face wasn't ruined _too_ badly."

Natalia, or whatever her name was, raised an eyebrow. "Thanks."

Harry looked at another one of the men, his face breaking into a grin. "You're Tony Stark! I'm a massive fan of your explosives—they're not powerful enough to kill me, and yet perfectly effective at blowing up other orphans."

Tony glanced at Coulson and then back to Harry. "Thanks, I guess. Why are you wearing a crown?"

"Oh, it's a key part of my superhero costume and my role as Zeus, king of the gods. I'm also a prince of Nigeria."

"A prince of Nigeria... I don't suppose you need a few billion dollars of my money to retrieve your own money which you're then going to give me a share of?"

"No, no, of course not. This isn't my Nigerian crown—it's the one I stole from the Tower of London."

For a moment, Tony's jaw hung. "You're the one who stole the Crown Jewels?"

Harry frowned. "I borrowed them. I put them all except the crown back when I found out how bloody hard that they are to sell on the black market without constantly wandering into MI6 traps."

Tony laughed. "Where do you get the rest of your outfits?"

"Well, I was going to steal an Iron Man suit from you, but when I tried it on, it made me look fat, so I bought this purple cape. It supposedly belonged to Emperor Caligula of Rome—he's my favourite leader, after Hitler—but was magically preserved." He frowned. "I'm not entirely sure if I believe that, but it still looks cool, so…"

"Hold up," said Tony. "You said you _stole_ one of my suits."

"Weren't you listening? I only tried it on. Actually, that might've been in a dream."

"In a dream…"

"I dream about weird stuff, okay?" Harry glanced at the other two men. "By the way, I have no idea who either of you are."

"Captain America and the Hulk," said Tony.

Harry nodded. "Ah, Captain America's the one who wears the Puerto Rican flag on his chest, right? And Hulk is the green guy who excels at breaking things?"

Tony looked at Coulson. "Where did you find this guy? I like him."

"Thanks, Iron Man. I like me, too."

"Anyway," said Coulson. "On to the reason why we are here. An alien threat has arrived on Earth. They are from Asgard—the same place Thor was from, assuming you have read the files. The threat has killed eighty people in the last day and—"

" _Eighty?_ " Harry interrupted. "That's horrific... How does an Asgardian only manage to kill eighty people? I could kill eighty people with a well-placed pipe bomb! This guy clearly has no experience leading terror campaigns. Does that count as a clue as to who this might be?"

Everyone stared at Harry.

He stared back. "Just to be clear, I also don't have any experience leading terror campaigns." He paused. "Well, there was that one time in Peru… Okay, I don't have _much_ experience leading terror campaigns."

"We don't need any clues; the threat announced his name."

"Well, that's just _boring._ "

"The threat proclaimed himself as Loki of Asgard."

Harry's jaw dropped. _'Loki, what have you been doing behind my back?'_

For a moment, Loki was silent. _'It…could it be an imposter?'_

"So," Harry began. "What did this Loki look like?"

Coulson picked up a remote control and clicked a button, turning on a screen in the room's corner to reveal what was undoubtedly Loki's face, attached to a body Loki's height, wearing Loki's armour. The video began to play, its subject walking and talking exactly like Loki as he slaughtered the humans.

 _'_ _Yes,'_ Loki said. _'That is me.'_

 _'_ _But you're not aware of it?'_

 _'_ _No. Long ago, I theorised that because I was only a part of my own mind when I came to you, perhaps some other parts survived.'_

 _'_ _So this is the real you?'_

 _'_ _As troubling as the concept seems, maybe. It could be that another one of my soul's fragments survived and simply had more luck getting its own body.'_

 _'_ _How would they do that? We looked for years, and the best lead we got was Voldemort's ritual—and that wouldn't have worked.'_

 _'_ _I have no clue. Perhaps this attack is meant to attract the attention of any other Lokis.'_

Harry shook his head. _'No, that can't be. You'd be far too arrogant to believe that any part except you had survived without evidence.'_

"Zeus?" Coulson said.

Harry took a moment to remember that Zeus was his codename, and realised he had been zoned out for a few seconds. "Sorry, I was just entranced by how handsome that fellow is." He grinned. "Now, tell me all about our operation."

Coulson turned back to the screen and Harry smirked. _'I've been waiting for this moment for years.'_

 _'_ _The moment when you finally met a physical version of me so that you could sexually proposition me?'_

 _'_ _No—well, that too. I mean, my opportunity to prove that I can beat you in a fight without having to repeatedly punch myself in the face.'_

 **A/N: Sorry about not uploading last week. I can't remember what my excuse was going to be. This week, I might not upload because I've got exams, though they don't really mean anything so I'll still write. Au revoir, je dois memoriser certains francais pour demain.**


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

"You're needed in the meeting room. It's urgent. We—"

"Alright." Harry interrupted, cutting off Coulson's voice through the earpiece. "I'll be there in a sec." Harry clicked the earpiece off and turned back to the scientist. "So, can I have some of it then?"

The man spluttered. "I just told you that it's—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard—it's ten times more powerful than octanitrocubane, and is able to be detonated underwater or in space, because it defies the laws of physics, which it can do because we work for a shady superhero organisation." He picked up the vial. "Now, I'll be taking this—I'll test it for you. I may've never attended a chemistry class, but I am rather knowledgeable when it comes to explosives."

 _'_ _Is this really necessary? You know, with the massive amount of explosive spells you know?'_

 _'_ _Yes. Explosives are cool, and I can reverse-engineer them to make even more explosive spells.'_

Harry wandered through the corridors of the base until he made his way back into the meeting room, threw the door open and stepped inside. "Hello, guys. You said it was urgent?"

Only Coulson was there, and a black guy with an eyepatch and a leather trench coat. "You're late," Coulson said.

"I can see that." Harry eyed the other man. "I see that the guy weirder than me has already broken into the base and taken you hostage."

"This is Director Fury."

Harry paused. "Are you sure?"

"I am Director Fury," said Director Fury.

"You're wearing an eyepatch and a trench coat, pretending that your name is Fury…and you're leading a secret government agency?"

Director Fury glared at him.

Harry laughed. "I mean, I try not to judge on looks—that's actually a lie—but what the hell? This is like something out of a comic book." He turned to Coulson. "Are you sure that he wasn't hired because of a diversity quota? I mean, he ticks four boxes: black, disabled, dresses like Neo and is a bloody pirate."

Before Fury could angrily interject, Coulson said, "As I was going to say before you turned your earpiece off, our facial recognition detected the threat; he's in Germany. The rest of the team is heading to the Quinjet already; if you move fast enough you might catch them before it leaves."

"Where's it parked?"

"The hangar where you arrived."

Harry nodded. "Okay." He turned around and took off at a sprint, Loki directing him on his route through the winding corridors.

He made it to the hangar as fast as he could without damaging any walls. Luckily, the Quinjet—or at least what he assumed was the Quinjet—was yet to leave, and Harry ran up the landing ramp.

"Hello, guys." Only Captain America, a dozen or so SHIELD agents, and the redhead he'd learnt was actually called Natasha were in the jet. "Where's Hulk and Iron Man?"

Natasha glanced at him as the jet began to rise. "Stark doesn't exactly need a jet, and Banner isn't here for a combat role."

Harry frowned. "Then why is he here?"

Natasha matched his frowned. "Weren't you briefed?"

"No, I went to look at all the cool science stuff because Coulson implied I was acting childishly, and a child obviously wouldn't understand cool science stuff."

"What?" Natasha shook her head. "Forget it. Anyway, Banner is tracking down the radioactive signature of the object that Loki stole."

"He stole something?"

"How did you manage to miss the entire briefing? He used his sceptre, which can control people, to steal the Tesseract, a powerful alien energy source."

"Why did the humans have an alien energy source?"

"Hydra was trying to use it in the second world war."

"Well, it can't be that powerful, seeing as they didn't win."

Natasha snorted. "You can thank Captain America for that."

Harry looked at Captain America. "Thanks, Captain America."

Harry moved over to a seat and sat, glancing out the window at the clouds rushing by and the ground far below. With how fast the aircraft was moving—well over a mile a second—it wouldn't be long until they reached their destination. He set about planning what to do.

The time flew by, and it was not long before people were standing from their seat, ensuring that their parachutes were secured. Harry didn't pay any attention to them.

Captain America moved over to him and offered him a parachute.

"No thanks, Cap."

He raised an eyebrow. "What, you can fly or something?"

Harry frowned. "It's more like gliding. I tend to depend more on the fact that my terminal velocity is nowhere near fast enough to injure me."

"If you say so."

Harry nodded. "I do." He smiled. "I just did what I dreamed of doing since I was a child."

"What?"

"I said, 'I do,' to Captain America."

"Uh…"

"I'm just kidding, Cap. I had no idea who you were when I was a child and the only man I'm sexually attracted to is myself. You're far too blond for me." Harry caught sight of his reflection in a window and abruptly remembered he currently had blond hair. "Ah… You see, I'm not usually blond. I can just shapeshift because I'm a demigod with a god complex and a god with a god complex in my head." He paused. "Magic helps."

 _'_ _I don't think it's a god complex if you're a god.'_

Harry frowned. _'Well, I have a god complex, so everything I say is right; gods can, thusly, have god complexes.'_

The Quinjet had begun to slow several minutes ago. Now, an agent wearing a parachute pressed the button next to the door, opening it and allowing a cold gust of wind to whip inside.

Harry breathed in a breath of freezing air and smiled.

"Our ETA to the DZ is—" a man began. Harry charged past him and threw himself out of the plane, chasing the source of magic he could already feel. Some of it was Asgardian, and some of it was completely alien to him, which was very alien, seeing as Harry was basically an alien.

Flicking his wand, he brought a gust of wind up behind him and flew forwards, falling towards the lights of the city below.

A minute later, and he was still falling, with less than five hundred metres left before he hit the ground. On the ground, where he sensed the magic, he saw a man wearing gold and green—no, five men—wearing gold and green standing over a kneeling crowd. He couldn't make out any facial features from such a distance, but it was safe to say that it was Loki and a few illusions of Loki.

Harry adjusted his course accordingly, hoping to land on top of a building. He slightly misjudged his course and instead hit the edge of the wall, smashing through concrete until he hit a steel bar, bent it completely out of the shape and was sent tumbling towards the pavement a few stories below.

He impacted the concrete with a groan and climbed to his feet, rolling his head on his shoulders. His entrance seemed to have gained the attention of Loki-Two, who stared at him.

Without much of a pause, Harry moved towards him, who he immediately noticed was the real one, only partially due to the massive sceptre he was holding and partially because Loki was erasing his ability to fall for Loki-Two's illusions.

Loki-Two smiled. "Have you come to stop me, mortal?"

Harry glanced over the crowd and saw that none of them were hurt. "Well, as far as I can see, you haven't done anything illegal, so no."

"Nothing illegal? I killed a man a few minutes ago—I've killed dozens over the past few days."

"Well, I can't see that far, can I?" Harry shook his head. "Honestly, you're more of an idiot when you're physical. And, anyway, as an American law enforcement agent, I have no clearance to operate on German soil."

Loki-Two seemed to not have anything to say.

"I also don't really know the German laws anyway, except the age of consent and those concerning the trafficking of cocaine, fairy dust, and prostitutes. I can't be sure if murdering people is illegal."

"Of course. What reason would there to be to outlaw murder?"

Harry's eyes lit up. "That's what I've always said! Dude, we're pretty similar." He glanced at Loki's clothes and his own. "We even have the same fashion sense. Capes are pretty awesome, huh? Here, want to try on my crown?" Harry took the crown from his head and tossed it at Loki, who reflexively snapped out a hand to catch it.

He probably hadn't thought the guy wearing a cape and crown was much of a threat. That was why he was caught completely unaware when the liquid explosive Harry had borrowed earlier and put on the crown a few moments prior detonated against his hand.

Harry surged forward, wand snapping out and firing a barrage of spells even as Loki-Two arced through the air. All four stunning spells connected, and Loki-Two bounced off the pavement before rolling to a stop, his sceptre a few feet away from him.

"Well," Harry said, "that was anti-climactic."

He glanced around to make sure that it wasn't an illusion. When he turned back around, he saw that it was not, seeing as the supposedly stunned Loki-Two was back on his feet, holding the sceptre.

Harry sighed and whipped his wand through the air, sending a second barrage of stunning spells. Loki spun his sceptre, blocking two and dodging the rest as he rushed forward.

Having readied himself for close combat, Harry was not prepared when a beam of energy ripped from the top of Loki-Two's staff and caught him in the stomach, sending him flipping backwards, head over heels. He impacted the ground and rolled, back to his feet.

 _'_ _Well, I've never done that before,'_ Loki said. _'Looks like I've got some new toys.'_

Confusion was written across Loki-Two's face. For a moment, Harry thought he was shocked at his survival of the blast.

 _'_ _Your illusions have failed.'_

Well, that explained Loki-Two's surprise.

"Yes," Harry said. "Before you ask, I am you from the future, and I have come back to warn you not to kill me or be moody at Christmas, otherwise, there'll be a paradox."

Not giving Loki any time to process what he had just said, Harry charged forward, firing a wall of force that Loki was unable to disperse in time; it slammed into him like a truck and flung him against a building. Still, his grip on his sceptre remained tight.

Harry surged forward, firing another wave of force. This time, Loki slipped straight through it without it affecting him, dashing to meet Harry. With a flex of his mind, Harry turned his wand to a spear.

Loki apparently wasn't expecting that—or for the spear to be carved with Asgardian symbols. The spear met his sceptre with a clang. Using his longer weapon's greater reach, Harry twisted his weapon downwards, bringing it slashing across Loki's shoulder.

Before it could damage him too deeply, Loki stepped sideways, immediately lashing out with his sceptre, catching Harry's spear between the two blades out the end and attempting to twist it from his grip.

When the spear became a wand once again, Loki stumbled forward, allowing Harry to slip inside his guard and stab his wand into his gut. Without his Asgardian skin to block the next round of stunning spells, Loki collapsed limply to the ground, his sceptre falling alongside him.

 _'_ _I told you that I could kick your arse.'_

 _'_ _It's not fair,'_ Loki grumbled. _'You surprised me about a dozen times, and had me helping you to render my most useful magic obsolete.'_

 _'_ _That's your fault. You shouldn't have helped me, then.'_

 _'_ _What, and let you, and me by proxy, die?'_

 _'_ _Is a cause really worth fighting for if you're not willing to die for it?'_

"Loki!" a voice said through a megaphone. "Surrender!"

Harry turned around and saw that the SHIELD agents and Captain America had finally arrived, and that they were talking to him. He looked quite different after all, what with his illusion gone, cape laying on the floor a few metres away and his crown nowhere to be seen.

He sighed and decided he couldn't be bothered to explain this to anyone. He bent over, lifted Loki and the sceptre, and activated a Portkey.

 **A/N: Yeah, my exams went okay. I only fell asleep during one of them, and probably didn't fail too many of them.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

Harry idly toyed with the sceptre, waiting for Loki-Two to awaken. He directed a bit of power through it and blasted another hole in the wall. He frowned as he noted that it had not taken any of his energy—Asgardian magic usually did. Wizard magic did not, and yet this was nothing like wizard magic.

Wizard magic drew from energy—magic—in the area around you and directed it through you and then your wand. With this, however, all the energy seemed to stem from the gem at the sceptre's head.

He did not dare to touch it until he had tested it further and interrogated Loki-Two about it. Even now, he could feel the gem reaching out to him, attempting to do…something to his mind. What, he knew not.

 _'_ _Have you ever seen anything like it before?'_

 _'_ _Yes,'_ Loki said. _'I once saw a glowing gem. Unfortunately, it did not seem to be a sentient source of infinite power.'_

 _'_ _I, too, also once saw a gem. It was not, unfortunately, glowing. I'm not sure whether or not it was a sentient infinite power source, though. I didn't think to ask it.'_

In front of Harry, Loki-Two shifted slightly, probably attempting to conceal the fact that he was awake. That said, he couldn't have shifted much more, seeing as he was chained to the wall.

"Stop pretending to be asleep!" Before Loki-Two could react, Harry flicked his wand, spraying Loki-Two with mild water. Cold water wouldn't have worked as well, what with him being part Frost Giant.

As it turned out, mild water also did not wake him up.

"Perhaps he's really still unconscious," Harry muttered. "I should electrocute him."

 _'_ _Or you could just use the counter spells to the stunning spells.'_

"What fun would that be?" He smiled and pressed his wand up against Loki-Two, silently sending the most powerful electric shock he could muster through him.

Loki-Two spasmed for a few moments, before coming to rest with a groan.

"Congratulations, Loki, you've awakened!" Harry exclaimed. "Welcome to my humble abode!" He motioned at the window and the storm raging outside. "I hope that the chains and the storm and the black stone walls are suitably ominous and evil for you! I was considering hosting you in the dungeon, but it's not just airy enough."

One of Loki-Two's eyelids cracked open. "Of course. One can only be imprisoned in so many dungeons before the experience begins to grow stale. This is quite the breath of fresh air."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "You see, my trick is not to get captured in the first place. It's quite easy when I'm stronger than almost everyone on the planet. Unfortunately for you, you don't exactly have that advantage." He paused. "Well, maybe you do, actually, seeing as I'm basically you."

"You're…me?"

"Well, no, but you're in my head."

"As nice as that is, you're not my type."

"Don't try and lie to me, you whore. You know well as I that people who look almost exactly like you are just your type."

Loki-Two shook his chains. "Of course, and my attraction is only enhanced when they chain me up."

Harry grinned. "Anyway, that's enough foreplay. Let's get down to the action. So, what happened to you after you fell from the Bifrost?"

"I fell for a while." He shrugged. "And then I ended up here. Are you going to explain why you look like me?"

Harry stroked his chin. "Let me think… No." He smiled. "Well, not until you tell me how you came across the pretty gem and the pointy sceptre."

"Is 'with great skill' an acceptable answer?"

"Is 'if you don't tell me, I'm going to invade your mind and see if it causes some kind of paradox' an acceptable answer?"

Loki-Two raised an eyebrow. "A paradox?"

"Well, maybe. For all I know, you're just me from the future who was deliberately defeated in order to maintain the timeline. Or you're the Loki in my head from the future, who didn't need to be deliberately defeated, since he's a little bitch anyway."

Loki-Two blinked. "I'm fairly sure that I am not from the future."

"Stop avoiding my question, you slag. How did you get the sceptre?"

"Well, I—"

"—am bored." Harry surged forward and grasped Loki-Two by the hair, yanking him forward to force him to make eye contact. With the mental force of a dozen freight trains, he ripped into Loki-Two's mind, Loki with him, guiding Harry through his own defences with careless ease.

Loki-Two had no time to react, to realise that his attacker knew every one of his weaknesses, every backdoor that he had made.

Harry sifted through Loki's thoughts and, once he found the memories relating to the sceptre, followed the trail, and he was suddenly in a world of blue—a place not of this world, or of any other of the Nine Realms, for that matter.

A humanoid stood before him, seven feet tall and inhumanly muscled, his shoulders broad and his skin blue. Even in the memory, his piercing blue eyes seemed to tear into Harry's as he passed over the sceptre to Loki, as he sent him to Earth with two goals, to see steal the Tesseract, and to see Earth subjugated—or destroyed.

Harry staggered backwards, stunned from the memory by the being's sheer mental presence. "Who the hell was that?"

Loki-Two's eyes were clenched shut. "Thanos, the Titan."

 _'_ _Thanos,'_ Loki murmured. _'I have heard the name—I have heard the legend. I did not think that he actually existed, though. He is an immortal being, thousands of years old. His origins are debatable, and I've heard a dozen different theories. He may be from Earth, though, seeing as his name derives from the Ancient Greek for death.'_

 _'_ _He sure as hell doesn't look like he's from Earth.'_

 _'_ _Indeed. I've never paid much thought to him, seeing as I didn't actually think that he existed. He is believed in by lunatics and no one else, on Asgard. They make up mad conspiracies about him being involved in some of the assaults on Asgard over the millennia, and so on. He supposedly pursues omnipotence, which he believes he will gain if he finds all six of the so-called Infinity Stones.'_

 _'_ _Do they exist?'_

 _'_ _Yes, I do not know what they are specifically, or if they truly grant omnipotence, but…'_

Harry glanced at the sceptre, and at the gem at its head. _'You don't think…'_

 _'_ _There are supposed to be six stones: Mind, Soul, Space, Reality, Time and Power. The sceptre controls minds.'_

Harry grabbed Loki-Two by the chin and forced him to look up. "Is this an Infinity Stone?"

For a few moments, Loki-Two looked puzzled. "An… Why did I not think of that?" Anger flashed across his face. "I should've thought of that—I _would've_ thought of that. There's some kind of mental block on me—some compulsion to obey Thanos. Or there was before you bulldozed your way through my head."

"Is that a thank you?"

"Yes, a thank you for stabbing me, kidnapping me, and forcefully reading my mind."

"You're welcome. It's all part of being a superhero, you see. I've got to help people, by whatever means necessary." He paused and frowned. "Or is it not using whatever means necessary? I can't remember. I think I'll just go that Batman route and go and beat up some mentally ill people."

"Do I count as mentally ill?"

Harry punched him in the face. "How's that for an answer?"

Loki-Two groaned. "I think you're the only mentally ill one here."

"Oh, I am." Harry stabbed himself in the throat with his wand and slumped to the floor.

Loki-Two stared at his body for a few moments. "I can tell what is an illusion and what is not an illusion, you know."

Harry sat up. "That's a shame. It's always exciting to see people panic when you kill yourself or their family or destroy their country in front of them."

"Indeed. Perhaps now you might indulge my curiosity?"

"Fine," Harry sighed. He stood and began to unbuckle his belt.

"That's not what I meant."

"You're going to have to be a lot less ambiguous, then."

"Can you, perchance, tell me why you look like me?"

"Yes," Harry said. "We look alike because we have the same hair colour, the same eye colour, the same body type, the same height, and a very similar facial bone structure."

Loki-Two sighed. "And perhaps you might be inclined to tell me why we share all of these features? Are you an illegitimate son of mine, perhaps?"

"No, I am your father!"

"What?"

"Haven't seen Star Wars, then? Uncultured swine. Anyway, it's because when you fell off of the Bifrost, a piece of your mind was ripped off and managed to push its way into my mind. So I'm basically a deranged version of you mixed with a deranged version of my real self, but mainly you, seeing as you raised me."

"A deranged version of me…"

"Yes, I'm still unsure as to why I'm deranged. It's either because you're not good at manipulating minds and brain activity as you think you are, because I've hit my head a lot, because one brain isn't enough space for two minds, or because I fake it so that other people underestimate me, or because I fake it because it's funny as hell."

Loki-Two nodded. "Of course."

"So, do I let you go now?"

"I would prefer that."

"Don't you like my company?"

"I think I would like it more if I were not chained up."

"But how do you know that for sure?"

"If you released me, I'd have sampled both and would be certain as to which I liked more."

"But what if Thanos is still influencing you?"

Loki-Two sighed. "What can I do to persuade you to let me go?" After a moment, he added, "Please don't take off your trousers."

* * *

Harry smiled. "Just tell me where the Tesseract is."

Harry threw open the doors to the abandoned warehouse Loki-Two had borrowed. Banging the bottom of his sceptre on the ground and wearing Loki's clothes, he marched in.

"My loyal followers," he hissed.

 _'_ _I do not sound like that.'_

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…my loyal followers, bring me the Tesseract."

A man in a lab coat rushed forward. "But you said—"

"I don't care what I said!" Harry exclaimed. "I have frequent mood swings! Now, bring me the bloody Tesseract!"

"Of course, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir.' Call me 'my lord.'"

"Of course, my lord."

Harry smiled. "That's more like it."

A group of soldiers rushed off to presumably get the Tesseract.

Harry turned back to the scientists. "Do any of you have any explosive-making tips? At the moment, I mainly make nitroglycerin because the fumes smell nice and I accidentally made a few tonnes of nitric acid so decided to buy a few tonnes of sulphuric acid."

The soldiers in the room all seemed to scratch their heads as one whilst all the people in lab coats sought to speak as one.

 _'_ _I'm not sure I'd be asking for explosive-making advice.'_

"The voice in my head is right. Don't tell me about explosives, guys."

Loki sighed.

"I don't exactly have to be subtle. What are they gonna do? Throw the Tesseract at me?"

As if in answer to that, the two soldiers who had gone to get the Tesseract came back, now holding it in its glass case between them. Luckily, they didn't throw it at Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing it from them and setting it at his feet. He glanced around. "Since I'm a superhero now, I should probably help all of these mind-controlled people."

 _'_ _That does sound like something a superhero would do.'_

 _'_ _I'm not sure about that. Batman would probably just punch all of them. The Joker would shoot all of them.'_

 _'_ _I'm not sure that the Joker is a superhero.'_

 _'_ _Why? Because he's a clown, you racist?'_

Harry waved the sceptre around vaguely. "Be free, my children," he said.

Nothing seemed to happen.

"Well, I tried. I guess I've now got a private army of sleeper agents." Harry sighed. "Go back to your normal lives, guys. I'll call you when I need you." He picked up the Tesseract. "Now let's go and use the sceptre on Loki—he'll make a great stunt double."


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

Harry glanced across the table at Loki-Two. "Hello. You're"—he glanced at his wrist—"twelve seconds late."

"One," Loki-Two said, "you're not wearing a watch. And two, you have said that every single time we have met over the last month and a half."

"And you've told me that I've told you that you're late every single week for the past month and a half."

"And then you've told me that you keep on doing it because it makes you feel like a businessman."

"And then we proceed to continue with the conversation," Harry said. "Well, we hopefully do. Perhaps we should scrap the formula—or perhaps not. My predictability is unpredictable."

Loki-Two nodded. "Your unpredictability is becoming predictable. It may be time for a change. But that is not what I have come to speak to you about," he said. "I want to return to Asgard."

"You do, do you? And I suppose you need me to hold your hand and walk you through the portal?"

"No, believe it or not." Loki-Two smiled. "I do, however, believe that you might want to help me in my endeavour to take the throne."

For a moment, Harry was silent. "What's in it for me?"

"Well, you'll get a rather like-minded person on the throne."

Harry stared at him.

"It will also be rather good revenge on Odin. We can throw him off the Bifrost, if you like."

 _'_ _We're doing it,'_ Loki said. _'Well, maybe not the throwing him off the Bifrost bit. We don't want to risk creating a situation similar to us, except with Odin in their head.'_

 _'_ _Maybe that's why Dumbledore is so wise and annoying.'_

 _'_ _No, Odin is obviously Director Fury, one-eyed and a control freak who completely fails when it comes to finding or defeating us.'_

Harry grinned. "Let's do it." He stood from his seat.

"Now?"

"Well, we've got to be unpredictable."

"Luckily, I've been planning this."

Harry frowned. "That's no fun."

"Either is failure."

"I wouldn't know; I've never experienced it."

* * *

A while later, Harry and Loki-Two stood in a cave upon the side of an Icelandic mountain. A few feet away from them, flush against the wall and giving off a slight glow, was the portal to Asgard. Both of them had come prepared for the occasion, dressed in illusionary clothes which were best suited for the Asgardian peasantry.

Loki-Two eyed Harry. "No sceptre?"

"Nope. It didn't work when I tested it on you, so there's not really much point. I'm pretty sure that the Mind Stone should be more powerful than that, though, and the people under its control shouldn't be put out of its control by being knocked out."

"It's almost as in Thanos didn't trust me, and purposefully limited its power."

"That can't be. Everyone trusts us."

"Yes," Loki-Two said. "Now let's go and violate that trust by betraying and dethroning Odin."

As one, they stepped through the portal and out into another cave. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out two broomsticks, waving his wand over them to bring them to full size.

Loki-Two sneered disdainfully at them.

"Don't be such a prude—it's okay to ride a big, long stick of wood, especially since this is the most expensive one that thievery can buy," Harry said. "We've got to fly a few hundred miles to get to the palace, and I don't know how the wards will react to teleportation."

"Fine."

A few minutes later, they were out of the cave and in flight, cloaked in partial invisibility spells to hide them from the gaze of anyone below. Whilst Harry had originally discovered himself to be naturally skilled at broom-riding, and had only grown in skill, Loki-Two did not have the same affinity.

Thusly, their journey was made quite a bit longer than it needed to be, with Loki-Two managing to go plunging downwards—with his broom or without it—whenever they came across a particularly strong gust of wind.

Eventually, though, they neared the city and began to descend, Loki-Two quite a bit faster than Harry. They managed to land without destroying any buildings or killing any civilians, and began to walk towards the palace, their faces disguised. The city guard was probably still looking for Loki—or any citizens resembling Loki—after all.

Walking through the city proved to be quite the task for Harry. Maintaining illusions was generally easy for him, even if he didn't anchor them to an object. It wasn't quite as easy when you had to put up with two Lokis, one of them who could still talk to you even if you blocked your ears, ranting about how terrible Asgard was.

"If you guys think it's so terrible, why do you want to rule it?" Harry asked. "Never mind. I remember—we just like ruling over people, but humans are too easy to rule over, so you have to rule over the godlike beings."

"Well, I wouldn't call Asgardians _godlike_ —except me, of course."

 _'_ _We're not god_ like; _we_ are _gods.'_

The palace soon loomed overhead, and the number of guards in the street grew.

Harry glanced at a few guards as they walked past. "I hope there are no dangerous criminals around."

A while of walking later, they were slipping into a side door, leaving a guard's body hidden inside a wall behind them and bringing another with them, this one under the effects of an overpowered Imperius Curse; it would not work for too long, but it would be good enough,

As they had planned, Loki-Two resumed his true form, and Harry took the guise of one of the guards they had taken out. He handcuffed Loki-Two with a pair of fake manacles, and guided him forward, occasionally prodding him with a spear. The actual guard took the lead.

Like that, they marched him to the throne, drawing the stares of many others who seemed too intimidated to do anything. The guards outside of the throne room were apparently not so easily swayed. They crossed their spears to block the group as they attempted to enter the room.

"Out of the way," Harry mentally commanded his Imperiused guard to say. "We're bringing Loki to Odin. He surrendered himself outside the castle."

One of the guards glanced backwards to somewhere Harry couldn't see. For a few moments, he spoke with someone else in hushed tones, and then signalled for the guards to stand down. They parted to allow Harry and the others through.

Harry locked his illusions in place, ensuring that Odin would not see through them. He moved through the doorway and to the side slightly, hanging back and readying himself in case someone decided to attack Loki-Two; that was the only reason he needed to be in the throne room at the moment.

Kidnapping or assassinating Odin and Thor right now would be silly—Loki-Two needed to be forgiven for his crimes first. And so Harry sat back and watched as Loki-Two gave his sob story to Odin, lamenting about how he had been so cruelly enslaved by Thanos, and had only now managed to free himself from his grasp.

When Odin decreed that Loki was to be taken to the dungeons and inspected, Harry relaxed. He hadn't _expected_ Loki-Two to be executed on the spot, per se, but with what he had heard of Odin, there was a slight risk of that happening.

Now, Harry simply had to ensure that the Asgardian healers detected the massive imprint he had made sure to leave on Loki-Two's mind a few hours ago, just in case they missed what Thanos had done. And if they didn't, he would have to use a few spells on them, too.

As Loki was marched from the room, Harry followed the formation of guards, bringing his Imperiused comrade with him.

A few minutes later, Loki-Two was safely imprisoned, two Asgardians standing over him and working their mind magic. Harry and three other guards stared on at them.

Harry was beginning to find guard work boring and he had been doing it for less than half an hour. How did people do this for their whole lives? Harry had already planned how he would kill everyone around him a dozen times over.

* * *

"I'm surprised that Loki got off so lightly."

Harry glanced at the other guard. "He was being mind-controlled."

"Yes, but how do we _know_ that? It could just be more of his sorcery. A sentence of only a few weeks is far too short—he should be kept under observation for longer than that, even if he's innocent. If he goes and does this again, I'm blaming that mother of his—she lets her emotions influence her far too easily."

Harry nodded. "Aye, but you must admit that he is very handsome."

"What?"

"Anyway, my shift is over. Goodbye."

Loki-Two had now been imprisoned for just over a week and rigorous observation from the healers, as well as a wee bit of help and manipulation from Harry, had led to him being cleared of all of his crimes—including the attempted destruction of Jotunheim, which Harry had also managed to blame on Thanos' mind control.

He was still being held, though, out of Asgardian spite, and would remain in custody for a week.

That gave Harry a week to make sure that Thor and Odin went missing, if he didn't want Loki-Two to be looked upon suspiciously. Thor had already been dealt with; without his hammer, he was no more than a regular, if reckless, Asgardian. It hadn't been hard to kidnap him whilst he was sleeping, take his place, and proclaim that he was going on a hunting trip.

Harry wandered through the hallways of the palace, Loki's directions guiding him to Odin's rooms.

 _'_ _So,'_ he said, _'are we actually going to kill him?'_

 _'_ _I'm not sure.'_

 _'_ _Please hurry up with your decision making. We're going to arrive in less than two minutes.'_

 _'_ _Fine. Don't kill him so we can decide if we're going to kill him later. Use lethal force if it necessary for our survival.'_

Harry nodded and began to dispel his illusions. He stepped into an alcove and pulled on his necklace. He felt as it layered different, more powerful illusions over him, which not only changed his face, elongated his hair and made it blond, but made his build bulkier.

His clothes shimmered, changing colour but retaining their rough form.

A mirror materialised in front of Harry and he flashed himself a charming grin, making sure that everything was in place.

A few minutes later, he was arriving at the doors of Odin's chambers. He casually walked past the guards, who parted to allow him through, with mutters of "my prince."

Harry nodded at them and strode into Odin's chambers. The first room was grand, with wide, warder windows and an ornate fountain in the middle. Beyond that were two doors, one leading into Odin's study, and the other into his bedroom.

Without pause, Harry walked onwards, and knocked on the study's door.

"Come in," came Odin's reply, a few moments later.

Harry felt the enchantments on the door disengage, and pushed it open.

Odin stood as he entered the room.

"Father," Harry said. "I need to talk to you."

With a sigh, Odin moved over to a table with a few bottles of alcohol on. "Not pertaining Loki, again? I've told you, Thor, that—"

"No, no. As fantastic of a topic Loki is, I've come here to discuss something else."

Odin's back was turned. He didn't even see Harry move before his wand was embedded a few inches in his back, firing off a dozen spells. Limply, he collapsed to the floor, smashing his face into the table as he did so.

Harry scratched his head. "Man, I have a weird definition of 'discuss.'"

He took the liquor from the table and began to pour it over Odin.

 _'_ _What are you doing?'_

Harry paused. _'We're not setting him on fire, then?'_

 _'_ _I told you that we're not killing him yet.'_

 _'_ _Well,_ we _wouldn't kill him—the fire would.'_

 _'_ _Harry…'_

 _'_ _Fine, I'll get on with the framing.'_

"Thor!" Harry bellowed, his voice replicating Odin's. "What are—"

He swung his wand around, bringing a table smashing against a wall and flinging fake blood around the room. After causing a bit more destruction, and ensuring that the guards were rushing towards him, Harry slung Odin over his shoulder and leapt through the window, escaping into the night.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

The knife wobbled precariously, balancing on Harry's fingertip on the point of its blade.

Harry's concentration—and his utter stillness—was disrupted as the door at the end of the room began to open. The knife began to topple and Harry grasped it between his fingers before it could fall. A moment later, it was in motion, flying end over end.

Instead of stabbing into the neck of the one entering the room, it was batted away by a pulse of invisible force.

"Oh, hello, Loki," Harry said. "I thought you were someone else."

"You thought I was someone else? Someone else entering my bedroom? My bedroom, in my quarters, in my personal tower, which is warded against everyone except me?"

"I got in, didn't I?"

"You helped set up the wards in the first place."

"Exactly."

"The other day you were bragging about how powerful your castle's wards are, and how you plan to use the Tesseract to create the most powerful ward ever."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not saying they're bad because of my input—I'm saying they're bad because I only _helped_ make them, instead of making them on my own."

"If I'd let you make them, you would have probably made them kill me, or something."

"What, so I can take the throne? That sounds like a lot of work, and you know I don't do anything that requires substantial effort unless it's funny." Harry summoned the knife back to his hand. "Anyway, how did your coronation go?"

"Quite well, I think. I wasn't assassinated."

"I wouldn't have guessed." Harry stood from Loki-Two's bed. "Now, you only have a few minor things to sort out, like half the population hating you, and Midgard's governments having a grudge against you for your crappy attempted conquering of their world."

Loki-Two raised an eyebrow. "Will Midgard hating me be much of a problem?"

"They have nukes and wizards. I'm pretty sure that those could be pretty bad for Asgard." Harry paused. "Well, they could be if the Midgardians ever figured out how to open portals to Asgard, which they probably won't. Anyway, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"That doesn't sound like you, at all."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "I don't have to be cautious most of the time—not beyond what I normally do, anyway. Most things can't threaten me. Nukes, however, can."

"Even when they're on another realm?"

"I spend most of my time on Midgard, and happen to look a lot like you—if far more attractive," Harry said. "But to be honest, I just want an excuse to go and talk to the sci-fi pirate. I'll leave you to stamp out any rebellion, and to become an evil dictator."

And without further ado, Harry left the room.

"You know, for what's supposed to be a secret base, this isn't very stealthy."

Fury spun around in his chair, reaching for his gun and finding only an empty holster.

Harry continued to spin the gun around his finger as Fury dove behind his desk, reaching for another gun. "Relax, I'm not here to kill you." He paused. "Well, that depends on how that meeting goes."

Fury popped around the side of his desk, gun roaring. All six bullets froze a few inches from Harry, two in front of his heart, two in front of his neck, and two in front of his face.

"This isn't off to a good start, is it?" With a wave of his hand, Harry sent the desk crashing into the wall, and levitated Fury into the air, wrenching the gun from his hand.

Harry's face shimmered and resumed his old, blond disguise. "See, I'm not Loki. I'm the guy who was helping you track him down, and who accused you of being a Somalian space pirate. Are you one, by the way?"

Fury continued to angrily and silently levitate.

"Stop being silent."

Fury stayed silent.

"If you don't talk, I'm going to mind control you and make you make pirate noises."

A few seconds passed, and the door was booted in. A metallic cylinder bounced against the floor and, with a flick of his hand, Harry knocked it back into the corridor. With a flash of light and a tremendous bang, it exploded.

One of the men outside staggered through the doorway dizzily, and then slipped and bashed his helmeted head against the wall. A flick of Harry's wand rendered him unconscious.

Harry glanced at Fury. "Where do you hire these people?" He waved his wand and put the door back into place. "Anyway, I'm here to negotiate a peace treaty."

Boots and battering rams pounded against the magically sealed door.

"As you can see," Harry said, "I have no experience whatsoever negotiating peace. I normally just kill all of my enemies. Unfortunately, every single person on Earth seems to dislike Loki and I can't kill everyone—well, I suppose I could but it would be a lot of effort and Midgard is my favourite realm—you have the best ice cream and the best explosives."

Fury continued to glare with his one eye.

"You don't understand?" Harry paused. "I'm really not sure how to say that in pirate. Will your Matrix trench coat let you download English so that you understand me?"

"I understand you."

"Are we going to negotiate now, or are you going to continue being stroppy?" he said. "And don't say, 'the US government doesn't negotiate with terrorists.' I'm not a terrorist. That was Loki. And he was being mind-controlled."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Mind-controlled?"

"Yes, like this. _Imperio."_

The next thing Fury knew, he was performing a solo ballet around the room.

From Fury's chair, Harry clapped. "Bravo! Bravo! Wonderful performance! Now, are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to magic up a stripper pole?"

"I _was_ cooperating."

 _'_ _He was,'_ Loki confirmed.

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Well, you can never be too cautious."

 _'_ _Of course not. Let's stab him with a stake to make sure he's not a vampire.'_

 _'_ _Can't you see the trench coat? He's clearly not a vampire—he's a half-vampire vampire hunter.'_

 _'_ _I think we should stab him anyway,'_ Loki said. _'Just to be safe.'_

 _'_ _This is why I'm the diplomat. Well, this and you not having a body.'_

"Anyway," Harry said aloud, "now we have that sorted, I assume you can pass on the message to all of the governments of the world to stop trying to attack Loki, because it wasn't his fault."

"I—"

"You may or may not have noticed that I am a wizard, and am probably the most powerful being currently on Earth. I'd take that into consideration in your answer."

Fury glared at him. "From what I've seen, wizards tend to die when they get shot through the head."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not _just_ a wizard."

With a wave of his wand, he disabled his protections on the door and it was immediately kicked in. Black-clad men charged in, guns roaring as soon as Fury was out of their line of fire.

Harry stood still, unflinching as the hailstorm of bullets struck him. He winked at Fury and moved forward, too fast for his target to react before his gun was wrenched from his grip and bent in half. Grabbing the man by his collar, Harry lifted him up and flung him forwards.

The man barrelled into his comrades, sending them crashing to the floor and halting their attempts to extract Fury.

Even as they collapsed to the floor, a new attacker was dashing into the room, a metal shield held before him. With a roll of his eyes, Harry side-stepped Captain America's charge. A flick of his wand later, Captain America was unconscious and stuck to the ceiling, with his shield was stuck to the wall.

Fury attempted to crawl from the room, only to be yanked back in by an invisible force around his ankle. The same invisible force pushed the rest of the agents back out into the corridor. Harry waved his hand and a wall of ice rose to reseal the doorway.

"Did you see that, Fury?" Harry summoned a gun to his hand, aimed at the side of his own head, and fired twice. "I'm not dead." He laughed. "It doesn't even hurt—but that could be a result of nerve damage from constant substance abuse."

"I—"

"I know, I know, drugs are bad. Blah, blah, blah. 'You're already too confident without the cocaine, Harry. Don't snort semtex, Harry. Cyanide isn't for recreational use, Harry. Drinking gasoline is bad for you, Harry.' Just let me have my teenage rebellion, okay? Besides, it's all basically legal now I have my diplomatic immunity."

"You know, good diplomacy usually doesn't involve appearing in their office."

Harry snorted. "I didn't _appear._ I was there before you were. You just didn't notice me because I was in your blind spot—to your left, that is."

Fury glared at Harry—that seemed to be a habit of his.

"Do you not get the joke? Are you blind to its meaning?" Harry chuckled to himself. "Anyway, I assume that you're going to stop looking for Loki. And you're not even going to attempt to look for me. If you do, I'm going to go and mind control someone, and get them to launch a nuke right at the White House, okay?"

"You really don't have much experience with this diplomacy stuff, do you?"

Harry frowned. "How could you tell? Is it because you can sense my nervousness?"

"Something like that."

"Do you have any diplomacy tips?"

"Don't threaten the most powerful organisation in the world."

Harry scratched his chin. "Well, I wasn't really planning on threatening McDonalds anytime soon, but okay." He chuckled to himself. "I'm so funny."

"The US government—"

"—does not negotiate with terrorists. Yes, yes, I've seen action films too, and don't care if that's not what you were going to say. I'm not a terrorist—well, that depends on your definition of terrorist, but it sure as hell would make life a lot easier for you if you just cooperate with my demands."

"I'm sure it would."

"But you're still not going to do it, huh?" Harry sighed. "Let me guess, justice comes first? Well, the real world doesn't work like that. I quite frankly don't even think justice exists, and, more importantly, justice won't save you from a bullet or a Killing Curse, or a piano falling out of a window." He raised his wand and pulled a glowing gemstone from his pocket, pressing the two together. "It also won't save you from the mind-control spell I developed using the help of an Infinity Stone. _Covetus Imperius."_

The clear spell hit Fury before he could react and he fell to the floor. For a few seconds, he spasmed madly, bleeding from his nose.

"It still needs a bit of modification, as you might be able to tell. Fortunately, it still functions perfectly! That is to say, it is an Imperius Curse which is nearly impossible to detect, whether by wizards, or your closest friends—not that you have any." Harry grinned. "Say goodbye to free will!"

"Goodbye, free will," Fury said.

"Excellent," Harry cackled. "I'm such an evil genius. Bye, for now. I have to go and return some video tapes—your CCTV tapes, that is, and when I say return, I mean burn."

 **A/N: Sorry about the late update. I forgot what day it was.**


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